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asumofwords · 1 year ago

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Blood, gore, major character deaths.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Oh my god.... Everything is happening ARGH! I'm actually going to try and post updates daily now for this, bar Sunday for the next Sublet chapter. I am just so excited to finish this series! Hahaha, anyway, I've loved seeing all your reactions and theories!! <3

Chapter 102: Envoys to Dragonstone

When you had returned to your chambers, it was a blur of movements and thoughts, but one in particular seemed to absorb all the rest. Its dark tendrils wrapped around the others, pulling them into the dark with it, thus making its size almost immeasurable until all other thoughts were devoured by it, gone from the light, and all that was left was it.

War was coming.

With shaky hands you grasped a piece of parchment and sat at the table. With the ink pot and quill, you rolled the parchment flat beneath your palm and began to write.

You wrote as though your life depended on it.

Because it did.

And with each swift flick of your script, a blaring word in particular seemed to have broken loose from the feeling of hopelessness. A word which had been whispered and cried. Spoken and sneered. A word that had fuelled your hope, and created your despair. A word that you knew, now more than ever, was a need to act.

Dracarys.

And so you wrote until the page was full, and tears leaked from your eyes at knowing what was to come next.

Loss.

‘Mother and Father,

To write to you under the present circumstances does little to steady my beating heart, but it is something that I know will ensure that it keeps doing just that. Beating.

Aegon is dead. Slain at the hands of Aemond.

And now he is King. And I, Queen.

The treaty is lost, and at the risk of another war coming to take us all, I must beg you, bend the knee.

Bend the knee to Aemond.

If you swear him as King, he has said that he will allow you to live on Dragonstone and carry out your days there safely and happily.

If you do not bend the knee, war will break, and I will not survive it.

You will not survive it.

None of us will.

My only consolation is that if you do, we shall all live, and that I will be able to see you again soon.

I suspect I am with child, Aemond’s child. And if the promise of your own flesh and blood upon the throne does not satiate your need to rule, then know I hold no grievances towards you. It is your birthright, just as it is mine.

If you do not bend the knee, you must send star fruit to the Keep so that I know of your decision, and may feel its sweet nectar upon my tongue once more before war breaks out. It is the only way I will survive this all, and it is the only way that I will know that you do not hate me for asking you of this.

It was not my wish to depose my mother of the throne, nor my father, or my dearest brother Jacaerys. I beg for your forgiveness. I shall go to the Godswood and pray that you will forgive such an offence, and pray that the Gods will forgive my sins too.

Until then, I wait to hear of your acquiesce to Aemond and I's rule, or the delivery of star fruit to the keep in barrels full.

Yours forever,

Queen Y/n.’

Tears slipped past your eyes, and you had not even heard Aemond enter the chambers, nor sense him standing behind you as he read your letter. It was only until he touched a lock of your hair at the back of your head did you know that he was there.

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, cool patience in his tone.

You turned your head to look up at him.

Were you ready?

Would you ever be ready for what was to come?

If your parents bent the knee, that meant you would rule as Queen, like you had always wanted, and at the side of Aemond.

But if they didn’t?

No.

They would come.

Just as you asked.

More tears fell, and Aemond swiped them away gently with his thumb, “Issa iā qopsa geralbar bona ilagon gō īlva. Yn nyke gīmigon bona hēnkirī, hae mēre, kosti.” It is a difficult road that lays before us. But I know that together, as one, we can.

“Iksan nāpāsagon ñuha lentor.” I am betraying my family, You sniffed, another tear trailing down your cheek hotly.

Aemond frowned sadly at you, helping you to stand.

“Iksis ziry drēje?” Is it true? He asked quietly, “Issi ao lēda riña?” Are you with child?

You knew in your bones that you were.

Although there were not many symptoms but the inklings of sore breasts, you just knew. You knew instinctually that it was true. That the Gods had given you and Aemond another chance of being parents, and you would not lose that opportunity again.

You nodded, another tear rolling down your cheek, one of sorrow and joy.

Aemond bent his head down to kiss you gently, lips brushing against your own in reverence, but his hands upon your face showed the true excitement that he held back. They were firm, and tight, and almost tingled against your skin.

“I am scared.” You breathed.

“I will keep you and my child safe.” Aemond looked you in the eye, sincerity on his face, a hand coming to press gently at your stomach.

You smiled sadly at him, “Not if war breaks.”

“Even then. I will not lose you, or our child. You are the most precious thing in the world to me, my one and only love. Not even the Gods could take you from me.” He promised.

Your heart soared as you nodded up at him, rising on your tiptoes to capture his lips once more. He whispered an apology against your lips, and you couldn’t help the small sob that escaped.

“Please do not make me choose.” You whispered, hands holding the sides of his face, stubble brushing against the scar of your palm, the reminder of your union and love always there.

“You have already made your choice. Now they must make theirs.”

Aemond left you in the chambers alone to deliver your letter to Otto Hightower and Ser Criston Cole, who readied themselves to leave by ship that very evening. They would arrive to Dragonstone by morning.

And you would get your answer from the skies.

DRAGONSTONE POV

The morning broke the same way that it had before.

The sun rose above the waters surrounding Dragonstone, and cast the volcanic island in a glow of golden light. There was a light breeze that morning as the maids had opened the windows and balcony doors to Queen Rhaenyra and King Daemon’s quarters.

They had been dressed and readied, and broke their fast together. Little Viserys and Aegon the Younger tottered around their chambers, playing with tiny toy dragons that had been carved from wood.

The couple eventually made their way down to the study, Rhaenyra having gotten word from the men at the Red Fork that a certain war dragon had been spotted in the skies, and not seen to have left until almost a dozen days later.

As Rhaenyra shifted the letters at the large desk and Daemon sat lazily before the fir with one leg crossed over the other as Little Viserys sat on his knee, stories being whispered into the young boys ear as Aegon the younger sat on the floor playing with his toys, the door to the chambers were rapt by knuckles thrice in quick succession.

“Come.” Rhaenyra beckoned, and watched as the doors were opened swiftly by a Ser Erryk Cargyll.

The twin gave a short nod in greeting before apologising for his intrusion, “Your, Grace, there is a ship, just west of Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra stiffened in her chair, and Daemon snapped his head to the man, quietening his whispers.

“It flies the banner of your brother.”

Rhaenyra stood from her seat slowly, Daemon going her with his son in his arms, the boy nestled against his side.

There had not been a ship to Dragonstone since the day Otto had come to watch her daughter be wed to her half-brother.

“Notify the council, have them be ready.” Rhaenyra commanded, and Ser Erryk bowed his head, leaving the chambers at once.

Rhaenyra and Daemon stared at each other, Viserys fussing in Daemon’s arms, sensing the tension that mounted in the room like a storm.

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Daemon breathed heavily, smoothing hair away from his sons head as two of Rhaenyra’s maids entered the chambers.

Daemon kissed the top of the boys forehead before handing him to one of the girls, the other scooping Aegon the Younger into her arms before exiting the chambers.

Rhaenyra moved around the desk, coming to stand in front of Daemon, “I believe we should be ready for it.”

By the time the two entered the Chambers of the Painted Table, the Small Council of Queen Rhaenyra were already standing around it in wait. Jacaerys stood off to the side, his Lady Wife, Baela beside him.

Lord Corlys stood to the side of Baela with Princess Rhaenys and their other granddaughter Rhaena, all who wore black and red, with hints of blue, as was their new and old House colours.

All other Lords and Maester’s stood at the other end.

“When should they arrive to shore?” Rhaenyra asked, forgoing a greeting as she walked swiftly to the head of the table with her husband.

“Within the hour, Your Grace.” Came the response of Maester Gerardys.

Rhaenyra nodded, looking amongst the table before she jumped into action.

“We need to be ready for whatever my brother Aegon has planned. Patrol the skies and the sea. Have men at the ready for anything.”

Jacaerys stepped forward, “I shall ride Vermax.”

Rhaenyra nodded, though her heart raced in her chest.

The last time she had allowed her children to take to the skies, only one came back.

“I’ll take Moondancer, Your Grace.” Princess Baela declared.

Rhaenyra gave the girl a small smile, “Good.” She turned to face Rhaenys, “Take Meleys to the sky. If Aegon or Aemond are to come on the backs of their dragons, we will need numbers and you are one of our best.”

Daemon was the next to speak, “I shall take Caraxes-”

“-No.” Rhaenyra argued, “You will stay with me. I need you at my side.” Turning to Lord Corlys, she requested the presence of his ships, “Have four of your ships ready at port.”

The older man nodded, moving swiftly out of the chambers to command them.

“You said there was only one ship?” Rhaenyra questioned the Maester.

“Yes, Your Grace. Only one has been spotted.”

The crown weighed heavily atop the Queens head in that moment, the first time she had ever truly felt the weight of it.

At first when Daemon had crowned her, it was foreign, but with time, she grew to not notice its presence, as though it was another set of braids atop her head. But now, she felt the heavy weight of it all, pressing down on her skull, hyperaware that she had a duty, and it was about to be tested.

Once the ships had been pulled to the docks, and her dragon riders had taken to the skies, Queen Rhaenyra and her King Consort, Daemon Targaryen, moved with the Queens Guard down to the meeting point of the path where they had stood before.

When greeted with Aegon’s terms.

And then later with the return of their daughter.

But this time, they waited and watched as the heads and banners of the Green three headed dragon came towards them, and they did not once sense that they would be reunited with their daughter once more. Instead, Ser Otto Hightower was flanked by Ser Criston Cole and members of her brothers Kings Guard.

Above them, three dragons flew in circles, watching from above.

Waiting.

Ready.

Ser Otto Hightower, in all his lithe glory, came to a stop before Queen Rhaenyra, looking all the more like a weevil that had crawled into a farmers grain.

For he was a pest that had wormed its way into her fathers life, and become the driving force of the usurpation of the throne, her daughter and sons deaths, and the removal of her surviving daughter to her half-brother.

Ser Otto was a man that Rhaenyra as a child had hoped and prayed that her father would have seen through. That Viserys could have seen the man before him was a mask, a shell, and hid his true intentions behind duty and tradition. But Viserys had been blinded by the wolf in sheep's clothing, and Otto’s lies had been strengthened by Daemon’s love for her.

Viserys never did get to see the ruin that his inaction would become.

Daemon, the once Rogue Prince, stood at his wife’s side diligently, as he had promised to do, large palms resting upon the two swords that flanked him, one being the Dark Sister blade. He struggled to not sneer at the man who had taken everything from him.

Taken his daughter from him. His brother.

“We come as envoys.” Otto began, Ser Cole staring at Daemon, his own hand atop the hilt of his sword.

Daemon had not forgotten Cole's place in all this either.

Crispin Cole.

Rhaenyra looked down at the men from her nose. Despite being shorter than them, she stood uphill, and gave the illusion that she was above them.

And she was.

Where she was Queen, they were mere Ser’s.

“King Aemond the First-“

“-Aemond?” Rhaenyra interrupted sharply, worry coursing through her chest, “Did my brother Aegon drink himself to death in his cups?”

Otto reached into his coat pocket, the Queen’s Guard shifting as they watched his movement carefully. Long fingers pulled apart his lapel and dove into the inner pocket, grasping the rolled parchment from their daughter.

Daemon shifted atop the balls of his feet.

Lord Hightower held out the scrolled parchment, green insignia stamped into its papery surface with wax, “A letter from the Queen.”

“Queen?” Daemon snipped, looking at the parchment.

Ser Erryk stepped forward to grasp the letter, armour shuffling as his eyes darted to his twin, Arryk Cargyll, who stood behind Otto Hightower.

It was a sad day for either twin, seeing their other half on different sides of a silent war. Their eyes met, if only briefly, all hurt and betrayal, before Erryk took the scroll and delivered it to Rhaenyra.

“King Aegon is dead. And in the line of succession, Aemond has taken his place.”

“What about his remaining son?” Daemon questioned, looking at the scroll briefly before back at Otto.

Otto held his hands behind his back, “Maelor is too young to rule at such a time, and Aemond has taken the Iron Throne.”

Ser Erryk held out the parchment for his Queen to take, which she took whilst keeping her eyes upon Otto, much like her husband, who continued to talk.

“Bend the knee to the King, swear your fealty to him and he shall allow you to remain here as the Lady of Dragonstone, whereafter your son Jacaerys the Lord of Dragonstone, and Joffrey Lord of Driftmark. The Queen has agreed to send word to you now that the treaty has ended with Aegon’s passing.”

Rhaenyra hastily unrolled the parchment, ripping the green wax insignia of the three headed dragon off the paper, the wax crumbling onto the stone below. Violet eyes roved over her daughters script whilst Daemon read over the top of her shoulder.

The Queen felt a tide of rage.

“I will not bend the knee to a usurper and kinslayer who is not even second in the line of succession. He has no right to the throne.” She hissed at the Hightower Lord, “Where is the Princess?”

“She is Queen Consort now, and shall live her days with the King in peace and safety. Your blood sits upon the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra, something that should satiate your desire for war. Bend the knee to Aemond, blood not be needlessly spilt again.”

Otto spoke like an old man telling his daughter or wife to buy something from the market that was not needed, and not at all like a man who was preventing a war.

Daemon quietly seethed beside his wife, looking at Otto, and having read two words that gave him the permission he so desperately sought. Daemon shifted, hand pulling the Dark Sister blade from her sheath and stormed forward.

“Fuck this.” Daemon sneered.

Ser Cole stepped toward him, and from above a dragon screeched.

It was a blur of guards, and the sound of men and their blades being unsheathed filling the air.

Ser Erryk Cargyll stepped to the side of Daemon, if not slightly more forward, blocking the blow of Ser Cole’s blade as Daemon moved towards Otto, whose eyes were wide in shock. Queen and King’s Guards met in the middle, a blur of bodies as Rhaenyra stood firmly, planted as she were.

Watching.

With a swing of the Dark Sister blade, Daemon sliced through Ser Otto Hightower’s shoulder, the blade cutting through flesh and bone as though it was butter, carving down to the middle of his chest.

Blood sprayed from his wound, and the older man cried out into the air, the beating wings of dragons loud above them.

As the King Consort pulled his blade from the Hightower Lord, who stumbled backwards on shaky legs, Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade into the air once more, connecting with his neck.

His body landed on the floor before his head did, which rolled downwards into the chaos of the guards and knights who fought, mouth open and eyes wide.

Ser Erryk blocked another swipe of Criston’s blade, who came at him harder and faster, anger and desperation in his eyes. Ser Arryk, his twin, steadily approached the two as he battled through the sea of fighting.

A few of Aemond’s men had turned back, running down the path to try to get back to their ship, to send word to the King, but a large shadow loomed above them, and with a cry, Baela screamed out her deathly command for the very first time.

“Dracarys!”

Moondancer, a slender and pale green dragon with pearl like horns, opened her jaws and a plume of fire was cast over the Green deserters. The flames devoured the men entirely, who screamed in agony, trying to outrun their burning flesh, before dropping to the floor below, silent and stiff.

Baela, to prevent any more attempting to escape, landed against the path, the large claws of her dragon digging into the stone sides, much like how Rhaenyra had, many moons ago.

Moondancer screeched, head down and long at the backs of Aemond’s men who turned to face the dragon in fear, swords lifted in a pathetic last chance of defence.

It was an opportunity that Rhaenyra’s men did not let pass.

And an opportunity Daemon didn’t either.

The Dark Sister blade cut through three men, and Jacaerys upon Vermax landed behind the Queen and her men, a subtle threat, and a vow of protection for his Queen Mother.

Vermax growled deeply, teeth bared, whilst Rhaenys continued to circle atop Meleys from above, searching the skies for any sign of her cousins.

Ser Cole, sensing that he was fighting a losing battle, did not give up, and came at Ser Erryk brutally. The twin stumbled backwards, Arryk moving towards Cole’s side as Criston's blade barely just missed the twins face.

But as Ser Cole was occupied, and Rhaenyra watched from behind stony faced, he did not see the shadow that passed behind him, nor did he anticipate the thrusting of the Dark Sister blade through the pummel of his chest.

Ser Erryk Cargyll took advantage of the opportunity, and turned to face his twin brother, a man who was the exact image of him bar small scars upon their bodies, and if you had asked Arryk a year before, he was taller. Their swords clashed together, moves and skill mirrored as both men had grown and trained together side by side.

Daemon Targaryen, the once Rogue Prince and now Rogue King, a man who was seasoned in war, and battle, and swordsmanship, stood behind Ser Criston Cole, blade in hand as it penetrated through the top of his chest under his shoulder. Blood dripped from its tip thickly as he looked down at it, eyes wide in shock.

Daemon’s silver hair, now streaked in blood, lifted gently in the breeze that rolled past.

The drops of Ser Cole’s blood was loud in Rhaenyra’s ears as she looked at the man dubbed ‘The King Maker’.

With a large boot, Daemon kicked the knight off of his blade, and onto his knees.

Ser Criston Cole landed with a thud, looking up at Rhaenyra, eyes darkened by hatred. The blade in his hand had fallen to the ground, and blood dripped down from his wound thickly, splattering across the stones like many of his other men.

Rhaenyra looked down her nose at the man, lips pulled back in a sneer.

It was quiet on the path, the only sound Rhaenys’ dragon calling out from above, and the sound of blood on stone. All other fighting was drowned out by the rage that pumped through her veins.

And as though connected through a bond, like rider and dragon, Daemon stood behind Ser Criston Cole, The King Maker; a man who had been sworn to Rhaenyra once before, a man she had once been intimate with when she was a young girl, a man who had witnessed the Gods affirmation that she was fit for the throne, a man who had aided the usurpation of the throne, a man who had broken his oath to the cloak, and Daemon heeded the Queen’s wordless command.

Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade one final time.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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matsunoluvr · 4 months ago

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୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ how i think rafayel would react to horror movies…

might be a bit ooc, sorry if it is… _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

characters: rafayel

use of “Mr/Miss” - NB readers can ignore this!!

warnings: slight gore, swearing, suggestive connotations, rafayel, he bites you (softly)

continued under the cut ~

writers notes: kind of inspired by the your fragrance card near the end（≧∇≦）

“I’ll have you know, Miss/Mr Bodyguard, I don’t get scared easily.”

absolute pussy.

half covers his face every time he thinks there’s going to be a jump scare with his shirt

“miss/mr bodyguard… you dont think there’s going to be another on-AGH!”

OH MY GOOOD imagine his voice all whiny and a little shaken - i’ll tell you what i know he wants to hold onto you but is too embarrassed

his screams aren’t long, they’re more like a high pitched yelp

when the jump scares aren’t as scary, he flinches slightly or laughs at you

“awww miss/mr bodyguard, need to hold my hand?”

he’d look at you with a shit eating grin as if he wasn’t screaming like a bitch earlier

first time he yelped you couldn’t help but tease him

oh my god the beautiful shade of red his ears went as he defended himself

“I didn’t expect it, that’s all- don’t laugh… ugh..” and he’s darting his eyes in every direction, blocking his lips and cheeks from your sight but the flush is visible up his neck, up to the tip of his ears <3

if you’re eating popcorn he probably either dropped some, spit some out or choked on some 💀

° • * Incoming text from : Rafayel

“miss bodyguard, come n watch me paint plss im lonely”

Snuggled on the couch, you munched away greedily on the popcorn Rafayel had made - a little on the burnt side but hey, popcorn is popcorn - whilst he lazily scrolled through the movie options.

“What d’ya wanna watch?” He tilted his head towards you, eyes still trained on the TV. The space between the two of you was substantial, the bowl of popcorn, a few of the plushies you two had won from the claw machine, bottled water and a few other things, yet you could still feel his body heat radiating off him.

Humming passively, you can’t help but snort as he stops at the horror movie section.

“Horror?” You smirk, raising an eyebrow at him, causing an arguably overdramatic face of offence in response.

“What are you saying, why that tone?” He frowned, popping an un-popped kernel between his teeth, the crunching sound biting back at your remark.

“Hey-” Lifting your arms in faux defence, you shrug your shoulder at him. “I’m just saying, I didn’t take you for a horror-movie enjoyer.”

At this you watched his frown deepen and the familiar glint of competitiveness in his eyes, and now you were really in for it. He scrolls to the closest movie - “The Silence” - and immediately selects the movie to start…

[ 30 minutes into the movie]

Another yelp and your cheeks are hurting from the constant grin and chuckling as you watch Rafayel cowering beside you.

His eyes are half closed and his knees are drawing up close to his chest in a fetal-esque position, his bottom lip chewed and face flushed in a beautiful shade of pink.

“Agh- fuck!” Yelping again, he shuffles closer to you, hands clasping gently at your sleeve as he covers himself from another jump scare. He resembled a vulnerable kitten, and if you really tried you could almost make out the flattened ears and quivering tail.

“Aww, Rafayel. Feeling scared?” You cooed, petting his hair in a mocking manner, feeling his curls under your finger tips.

In response, he presses his face into your side, trying to block out the light and view. You can feel his nose pressing against you and his voice comes out muffled.

“I’m just tired, tired! Not scared, need to rest my eyes.” Rafayel grumbled out, pouting with his face nuzzled in your figure. His cheek squishes against you as he turns to the side to speak clearer.

“Miss/Mr Bodyguard… what fragrance did you use?”

Confused, you look down at Rafayel - subconsciously blocking out the screams and noises coming from the TV screen.

“Nothing, why?”

“Don’t lie to me. I hate lies.”

Pressing his face back into your side, he nuzzles into you. Now he really resembles a cat, practically purring at you.

“Smells bad…” Rafayel grumbles, yet he can’t stop pressing his cheek along your side, nor the flush that ran along his cheekbones, concentrating and pigmenting his ears.

“Rafayel, what are you…” Drifting off mid sentence, you feel his hand guide your hand to his cheek, soft and warm to the touch. His eyes lift to meet yours, dazed and glossed over.

Whatever he was smelling was really fucking with him.

“Hey, I’m not sure if-” A gentle bite to your hand followed by the dragging off his tongue along the marks left behind. He seemed almost drugged, sense of reason long gone.

“Fuck.. what is in that perfume…”

“I told you- I don’t have any perfume on.”

Completely disregarding you protests, he presses on, biting again at your palm. Once cowering position now more upfront, his legs shifted to lean over your body.

“Miss/Mr Bodyguard… let me remove this scent from you…”

#✧⁺ writing #lnd rafayel imagine #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace #lnd imagine #lnds #rafayel #imagine #i need him whimpering #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you

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gingersnaptaff · 1 month ago

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Comprehensive list of couples that need therapy - Mabinogion edition:

1. Rhiannon and Pwyll - Famously stupid dude marries famously smart woman. Nothing bad happens. (Oh, ur son's mysteriously disappeared, and ur wife's maids say ur wife ATE HIM?! Punish ur wife for seven years, make her become a horse, and give people rides like an uber. Don't think twice about this.) 6/10. I think couples therapy would probably help. At the very least Pwyll might fuckin think about things.

2. Branwen and Matholwch - Um, well, their marriage causes a war. And Matholwch is an ASS. I don't think couples therapy would've saved them. I think Branwen should've been allowed to fuckin deck him. 9/10

3. Brân and the Pair Dadeni. Um, the couple that slays together stays together. WAIT! NO, NOT LIKE THAT! WKDKDKF (The Pair Dadeni got blown up. They cannot have couples therapy.) 0/10

4. Manawydan and Rhiannon - They Do Not need couples therapy. They are very well-adjusted. Manawydan makes shoes, and Rhiannon just chills. They talk a lot. Rhiannon calls Manawydan a bad bud to Pryderi, though so there is that. In his defence, Pryderi was stuck to a golden bowl at the time and unable to speak. 4/10

5. Cigfa and Pryderi - Both idiots whom I love. Both snooty. Pryderi takes offence to shoemaking, and Cigfa takes offence to farming—match made in heaven. 0/10

6. Gwydion and Gilfaethwy - They fucked. They're brothers and they fucked. Their uncle made them become animals and they fucked. I think they just need therapy, never mind couples therapy. 100/10

7. Blodeuwedd and Lleu - Woman made out of flowers marries man who doesn't pay attention to her. Woman kills man. Man becomes eagle, and woman becomes owl. It's a tale as old as time. Yes, they NEED couples therapy. 1000/10

8. Arthur and Gwenhwyfar - Honestly, they kinda need it. There's no Lancelot, but Arthur is still an idiot. Plus, he has a list of worldly possessions that are super important to him, and his wife is like seventh. 5/10

9. Cai and Bedwyr - They do not need couples therapy. They just need naps because they're tired of dealing with Arthur's shit. 0/10

10. Peredur and Angharad - Manic pixie dream boy and exasperated golden-handed woman. They're also cousins? 6/10

11. Geraint and Enid - These two need therapy. Geraint so he can stop being an abusive sick and Enid because she's spent so long putting up with Geraint's dickishness. 10/10

12. Owain and Luned (and, by extension, the Lady of the Well) - Do they need therapy? Not they just need to work out their misunderstandings. Still, therapy would kinda benefit them. 4/10

13. Macsen and Elen - Roman Emperor who saw pretty lady in dream. He needs therapy. 7/10

14. Gwenhwyfar and Edern ap Nudd - MY GOD, THEY NEED THERAPY! Edern sending a dwarf to whip Gwen's lady? Edern whipping Geraint? Insulting the woman who is sometimes seen to be his lover? BRUH, 10/10

15. Gwyn ap Nudd and Creiddylad - Ehudjfjfjf Gwyn tries to kidnap Creiddylad and then is forced to fight for her. He kills a man in the battle that Creiddylad's fiancé wages to get her back and then makes the son of the man EAT HIS HEART?!?!? (Gwyn still has a cute dog, though) A million out of 10.

16. Dylan ail Don and the waves - 0/10. Dylan is in his lane. Moisturised. Flourishing. (Just don't do an Uncle Gofannon and smash his head in with a hammer.)

(This is supposed to be funny. Pls don't yell at me.)

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lanawinterscigarettes · 7 days ago

Note

for kinktober: Eddie Munson giving oral to a transmasc reader?

ofc, thanks for the kinktober request <3 (I really hope he isn't out of character here)

Kinktober 2024 Day 18: Eddie Munson giving oral to a transmasc reader

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, cunnilingus/oral sex (reader receiving), slight hair pulling, Eddie's a massive tease, swearing

You were over at Eddie's trailer for what was supposed to be guitar lessons. You'd always wanted to learn, and luckily for you the town's resident bad boy not only owned a guitar himself but was also kind enough to offer to teach you how to play. That's what you'd initially planned on doing, anyway, until things got sidetracked in one of the lewdest ways possible.

He definitely didn't expect you to show up wearing cut-off shorts with a spaghetti-strap tank top of all things, but in your defense Hawkins had been having an unusually hot fall and you didn't want to be sitting in a trailer that had no air conditioner for hours on end while you were sweating your ass off.

"Damn, sweetheart. I was going to make a joke about you having to repay me for guitar lessons, but if you're going to show up dressed like this every time I guess there's no need," he lightly teased, letting his eyes linger on your bare arms and legs a bit longer than he probably should.

"Haha, very funny, Munson." You thought nothing of his comments as you rolled your eyes, chalking them up to being nothing more than the usual flirty quips he'd throw out whenever he saw you. It wasn't as if he was attracted to you or anything like that, he just acted like that around everyone his age. That's what you'd convinced yourself, anyway.

"Seriously, you should wear shorts more often. The legs on you are enough to make a man drool," he continued with a cheeky smirk, watching as you flopped down on his bed with a certain sense of casual ease. You'd been over to his place so often you didn't even think twice about it. "And don't even get me started on those arms and collarbones."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it already, you pervert," you lightheartedly complained while tossing a pillow in his direction, which he caught before it could hit him in the face. You hated to admit it, but the playful compliments he was throwing your way was starting to actually have an affect on you. You could feel your face growing hot, and it wasn't due to the weather.

Eddie wasn't stupid, either, despite what other people might think. He knew just how much his words were getting to you, which is why he wasn't at all fazed by your complaints or the way you threw one of his pillows at him.

"Ouch, sweetheart. That really hurts to know a pervert is all you view me as," he feigned offence while making his way over to the bed, setting the pillow back down as he sat next to you. "And here I thought you might actually like me."

"Oh, shut up," you huffed with another eye roll, starting to run out of retorts to his nonstop teasing. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he actually liked you, but there was no way that was possible.

"Make me." He leaned in some, the smirk that was on his face having widened into a grin. He wasn't really expecting you to do anything in response except for maybe giving him a shove before telling him to knock it off, but you were feeling a little bit bold today, bolder than usual.

Maybe it was the outfit you were wearing, maybe it was the heat, but whatever the case may be you were willing to take his dare and run with it. Which is how you found yourself laying back on his bed without your shorts or underwear on, his face trapped between your thighs as he ate you out like a starved man.

"Oh- Oh, my God-" You moaned out loudly as you arched your back up off the bed, your hand finding its way to his hair and giving it a sharp tug. "God, yes- Just like that-"

You could practically feel the way his lips were turned upwards into a smug position at your desperate cries of pleasure, and you had no doubt that he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

His tongue moved expertly throughout your dripping wet folds, zigzagging from one area to another as he slurped happily. The cold metal from his rings dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gripped them tightly, keeping them spread apart.

"God, baby, you taste even better than you look," he mused out loud as he lifted his head up some to glance at you, seeming amused by the way you shoved his head back down with your hand.

"I thought I told you to shut up already." Your words held no real malice to them, but he could tell you were going to be pissed if he kept denying you, so he didn't push it.

"Jesus, baby boy, calm down. I was just trying to give you a compliment, sweetheart, that's all." His mouth met your pussy again, pulling a long and loud whine from you when his nose intentionally bumped into your clit.

"You're doing this on purpose, you bastard," you accused while tightening your grip on his hair, something that made him let out a groan that seemed to reach your very core when the vibrations of the sound hit your pussy.

"Sorry," came out his muffled response as he finally stopped teasing you and got back to work at eating you out like he was supposed to be doing in the first place. You left out a quiet sigh of relief that was shortly followed by a series of needy moans, your fingers lacing through his hair as a grounding mechanism.

Learning how to play the guitar may have been a fun idea, but getting head from the guitarist himself ending up being a much better one, especially when he made you see stars from how good he was at doing it.

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | Stranger Things masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

Kinktober 2024 masterlist | Kinktober 2024 info post/prompt list

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @elenavampire21 @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @defstr8bl0nd13 @theonetruepotato87 @caplanreblogsfics @merlinbtch (if you're crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

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helpme695 · 2 months ago

Note

Ok! Could I please request headcanons of yandere Pocketcat with female human darling? Thank you in advance 💜

Here you go :3 that's all I got

Sorry for taking so long LMAO

I assumed it would be inside the dungeons too lol

• ────── ✾ ────── •

It's a mistake, not only that, but stupid as well. You shouldn't come here, You shouldn't see this, you shouldn't experience this, the dungeons screams at you constantly to leave as fast as possible, for some reason you didn't abandon whatever unnecessary goal you have and ran- no, fly, straight out this hell and never look back, yet you so determined.

It was definitely harsh, your feel your soul crushing every second you move, your body shaking. You ran into these many cursed Creatures. However escape them miraculously as soon as you spot them.

You exception. How you would guard yourself from harm, how you move extremely fast and smooth like a feather. The way your mind work and respond like a machine. In top of that, you're gorgeous. Even in your lowest. Truly something to admire. And I have news for you, You decide if it's good or bad, someone never missed anything you offered.

Later on, you met a unusual man from the place. As soon he spot you he started talking to you

"My my~ I've been waiting for you to show up with your lovely figure, dove. Oh, you got a nasty wound on your shoulder. Here let me help, it won't hurt."

And talk

"My apologies, I usually pay no mind those disgusting beings, but they really did land a good one on you, don't you think it's enough to leave whatever you seeking for?"

And talk...

"By no offence to your outstanding Abilitys, but these dungeons make the toughest of men go insane. After all, I just like to go after lovely customers like you."

And talk...

"I dare to say, you do have astonishing face of yours, even after it woren off from your silly journey, did I mention how much I love your curves? Your body must been sculptured by the divines "

This man won't SHUT UP, it's hurts your head. And you don't like his flirting and how much he focus on things you don't put attention to even in days you actually take care of yourself.

He's trying so hard to make you stay longer just to talk, even better if you change your mind. And you always pushed his offering and idea's aside. You already too deep.

Since you shaked him off and continued to wonder, you feel eyes piercing your soul, but, things start to get easier. you found many non rotten food and booze neatly hidden in boxes, Sometimes herbs in questionable places. Not seeing the usual Enemies or danger. And whatever dare to bring harm to you, you finish them off as they were just a bug.

You can't help to think, is it because you became immune to these dungeons? Or because you encountered that gentleman, you did felt quite safe around him, but God you were uncomfortable. How he behave so friendly, like a person you know before. The way his eyes scan every inch of you, like he admiring a living art piece. How he get closer to you whenever he can. And of course, touch you in any opportunity. So Shameless. You swore if you didn't put a line he would do much more. Speaking of the devil... you felt you never actually left him behind. Or you just paranoid. :)

Overtime, you manged to meet people and convince them to company you. However, things weren't so good for them as you, completely opposite. They would starved to death if it wasn't for you to share your food. They have to get brutally injured, which you had to take care of almost blinded or limbless members. If you won't look occasionally after them, you would find them getting dragged in darkest corners. It almost something trying so hard to get rid of them.

They weigh you down. you should leave them behind. Why you so determined? Not only accomplish your goal, but also to keep them alive? You truly selfless. And that bother someone. Not necessarily your party members (which some of them are)

However, they won't be bothered for too long, especially when you lost 2 of your party to the crow mauler and split accidentally after pathetic escape for your lives. It was already hard for them, you have no idea how they will survive after the lose. And Why you sick over some mere beings? You have someone much important who's starving to see you again.

_____________________♡____________________

You screwed. That's all I gotta say. Lol

No but for real, yandere pocketcat is NOT easy to deal with at all. This dude will do Anything and everything means to have you. But he's patient, he likes to play with his food, after all.

He sometimes wonder Why his master make him this desperate over someone.

Let him take you and he will spoil you rotten, he will give you whatever you want and need. Just say it. If you don't, well..... it doesn't matter. He will get what he wants. He's immune to whatever tricks you have under your sleeves.

He's never truly get angry at you no matter what you do. Even at others that you interact with, because the thought that he owns you and nobody will shake him off, is too deep in his mind. He allows other people to talk to you but after that they will get some devilish dreams as warning, And if he notice they still confident to keep going, welp.... we know the show.

Of course you won't stay any longer in this dungeons, it's up to him where he wants to take you. But if you Obey him just right- he will ask his master to create the heavens that you shaped in your mind. Only him and you.

There's nothing you can lose other than your freedom. You would never get hurt by anyone but him. Your only luck if his God have mercy on you and kill you for good or have another God by your side.

#anonymous #answered #fear and hunger x reader #fear and hunger #fear and hunger game #request #pocketcat #fear and hunger pocketcat #pocketcat x reader #x you #oc x reader

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yuly · 2 years ago

Text

↬ Traffic Stop ↫

Aaron Hotchner (Police Officer AU) x female reader

Summary: a traffic stop ignites something unexpected in Officer Hotchner

Warnings: unsafe driving practices! minor curse words, use of km/h because I’m Canadian, fluff, hurt/comfort

A/N: I could not get this idea out of my head for a week straight, hope you enjoy♡

Pic credit: @maschotch

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You are driving home after your third 12-hour night shift in a row, feeling mentally and physically drained. Although the sun is far too bright, you find yourself fighting to stay awake and turn up the radio in an earnest effort to not fall asleep behind the wheel. You're daydreaming of a bubble bath and soft pyjamas when you notice flashing lights in your rearview mirror.

Shit

There's a cop car behind you, signalling for you to pull over. You wince at your dash as you realize you were going nearly 20km/h above the speed limit.

Shit, shit, shit

This is your first time getting pulled over and you panic as you realize you’re way too exhausted to mentally cope with this level of stress right now. As you pull over, you silently pray that the ticket won’t cost you all that you've earned over the past 3 nights.

The police officer approaches your car with steady steps as you roll down your window, counting backwards from 10 in your head.

“Good morning ma’am, do you have any idea why I pulled you over today?” he is tall, with an authoritative voice.

When you look up at him, the morning sun kisses your face, he can see the tired lines and bags around your eyes, but you look stunning regardless. He doesn’t show it, but he’s instantly taken aback by your beauty.

“Good morning officer, no I-I’m not sure. Sorry.”

Shit

You're starting to lose it on the inside. Why did you just lie? Of course you know why he pulled you over, what the hell were you thinking?

He sighs slowly, and you feel your stomach sink, thinking it's a wrap for you and that he is totally over your bullshit. Little do you know that he’s sighing out of annoyance with himself for being so distracted by your looks.

“Ma’am, you were driving well above the speed limit. May I see your license and registration?”

“Yes, of course.”

Your mind is racing.

Calm down Y/N, you know what he's asking you, you have both in the glove box, you can do this, you are an adult for God’s sake.

You hand over the documents and avoid meeting his eyes.

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

Your mind is scrambled from exhaustion and momentary stress but you still have the capacity to register how good-looking the cop is. Despite the situation, something about his aura was pleasant, and now that he left your side, you feel uneasy. You shrug it off as a side effect of the stress you're under.

“Alright Ma’am, seeing as you have no previous offences, I will let you off with a warning this time.”

His gaze is firm but not unkind as he hands you back your documents

“Oh! Thank you, officer, thank you,” you exhale a breath you didn't realize you had been holding in.

“Are you coming from work? You seem tired.” he glances over to your hospital badge on the passenger seat.

You feel your face flush, slightly embarrassed.

“Yes sir, I'm coming off a night shift.”

He hums in understanding, “alright, well please drive safe and maintain the rules of the road for the rest of your trip home.”

“Yes sir, thank you.”

You smile graciously at him and he simply nods in response. Once you're sure he’s at his car your bounce in your seat out of joy, relief washing over you like a tidal wave.

As he walks towards his patrol car, Hotch can feel the dread in his stomach, he knows that your smile will haunt him for days to come. He finds himself on the side of the road for a solid 10 minutes, lost in thought, your eyes, your smile, your voice all swarming his mind. His radio comes on and he's pulled back to the dull reality of life without you.

The months following the traffic stop are especially difficult for Hotch. He knows your first and last name, the make and model of your car, your license plate, your home address, and that you work in a hospital. Given his profession, he has the means to easily locate you at any moment, but he would never cross that line. Aaron Hotchner is an upstanding officer with firm morals, he has never been one to bend the rules or turn a blind eye, especially not for his own benefit.

He knows the chances of running into you again are slim to none, yet he finds himself volunteering to patrol that same road for weeks on end.

He has come to treasure that early morning interaction with you, every word branded in his memory, as he continues to hold onto the fleeting hope of ever being in your presence again.

Nearly six months later, he finds himself attending a wedding with an old friend of his. There is something in the air that night, he could sense it as soon as he stepped through the entrance, an aura of serenity and contentment, eerily similar to the feeling he got when you rolled down your window that morning, many months ago. He thinks nothing of it.

As he sits in his assigned seat, he can’t help but observe the couples around him as they sit side by side, enjoying each other’s presence. He can’t help but think of you, how are you? What could you be doing at this very moment? He hopes you are safe and happy. As he drinks the champagne in front of him, Hotch lets himself imagine a perfect world, one where he gets to have you by his side and enjoy a simple life.

He’s lost in thought when he hears Rossi mumbling near him, and he realizes his friend has been talking to him this entire time. Hotch nods and Rossi gets up, presumably to go to the dance floor. As he absent-mindedly gazes on, his eyes land on someone in particular and he nearly chokes on air.

You are standing only a few feet away, wearing a blush-coloured dress made of velvety material, your hair is beautifully done, and your makeup soft and dewy. You are a vision. At some point in his realization that it was truly you standing right there, Hotch stood from his seat, mesmerized by your beauty, he gathers his guts to approach you when an older man comes to your side to place a soft kiss to your forehead.

His heart shatters and anger pulses through his veins. It's a cruel joke the universe is playing on him, allowing him to catch a glimpse of you for the second time, only to snatch the dream away in the worst possible manner. He abruptly leaves the table, no longer in the mood to be semi-social.

About twenty minutes later, you excuse yourself from the table to visit the bathroom, afterwards, you make a quick detour to the entrance of the villa to catch a few minutes of fresh air. The property is breathtaking and the evening air is crisp. As you stand before the grandiose garden, admiring the beauty of the flowers and shrubs, you notice a lone man standing off to your right.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, just catching some fresh air,” you decide to politely announce your presence now to avoid any awkwardness later.

He slowly turns to you, his heart clenching at the sound of your sweet voice.

“Oh! I think I know you from somewhere…..” you frown and pout softly as you try to place this gorgeous man. The champagne from earlier is doing you no favours.

He chuckles at your adorable expression, “I’m flattered you remember me from such a short interaction, ma’am.”

“Oh!” you squeak. Shit. He’s the cop that let you off with a warning. You suddenly feel under a microscope and straighten your posture. He notices your slight change in demeanour and smiles warmly.

“Easy, I’m off the clock, and besides, you are a law-abiding citizen, aren’t you?” he teases.

You smile shyly, “yes sir” you respond in a soft, friendly tone.

“You can call me Aaron,” he stretches out a friendly hand for you to shake

“I’m Y/N.” as you smile at him he can feel his heart clenching once more.

His mind is telling him not to go any further, pursuing this while knowing you are unavailable to him would be futile and painful. But Hotch is a helpless romantic at heart, he is physically unable to walk away from you. The two of you fall into easy conversation. At first, it's mostly him teasing you about your driving, he then inquires about your job and your well-being. He is momentarily stunned when you return his questions and the eager expression that accompanies it.

Loud cheering from inside the wedding brings you back to reality.

"Oh! I should get back to the party, it was so nice seeing you, Aaron."

Hearing you use his name stirs something in him that he would be ashamed to admit.

"Likewise," he smiles, showing off his dimples.

As you walk inside, he feels the familiar feeling of dread return to his gut. What was he supposed to do with himself now?

"Y/N!"

You stop dead in your tracks and turn back to him with an inquisitive look.

"Look I-I know you came here with someone but I won't be able to live with myself if I don't at least say something."

There is suddenly something very different about the officer, a look and a tone that seems foreign coming from him. You smile softly as you realize he is being shy and vulnerable in this moment.

"I have not stopped thinking about you since the traffic stop. I can't get you out of my head. I almost can't believe I got to see you again tonight, and the thought of not seeing you again is too much to bear..."

Aaron has never been great with emotions, voicing them out is certainly not his greatest strength. He feels silly and pathetic standing here talking about his feelings. He was raised in a generation that taught boys to be ‘men’, to toughen up and bite it down, always.

"Oh, Aaron," you sigh and look up at him dreamily. "You are so sweet and such a perfect gentleman. I am flattered to have taken up so much space in your mind. If it helps, the man I was with is my uncle, I'm- I'm not seeing anybody right now." You add the last part rather sheepishly and shift your eyes to the ground near his shoes.

Aaron can feel his lungs inflate once again, as he smiles up at the sky, filled with gratitude, "yes, yes Y/N, that helps a lot."

He reaches out for your hand and gestures towards the wedding.

"May I have this dance, Ma'am?"

"Yes sir"

As he graces the dance floor with you, Aaron can’t help but think that the stars have aligned for this magical moment to be his reality. He worries about going to sleep tonight, afraid he might wake up to find it was all a dream. But for now, he loses himself in this beautiful moment with you, cherishing you and your smile.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #yuly writes!

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mimisempai · 4 months ago

Text

You are the wind beneath my wings 3/?

Chapter Summary

Aziraphale finally mets Jophiel again. But he's not an angel anymore. His name is Crawley, and he's a demon.

What do you do when you know the whole truth and the person in front of you can't remember?

However, Aziraphale stands firm. For their promise.

On Ao3

Rating G - 2722 words

Master post for this story here

Sunday, October 21, 4004 B.C. at 9:13 a.m.

The desert wind was warm and made Aziraphale's dress flutter around his legs as he watched the couple leave the garden.

Suddenly he felt a presence at his side and turned his head to see a black serpent completing its transformation into a demon.

Almost immediately, he gasped and looked away.

Jophiel.

There was no doubt about it.

That was the profile he would recognize anywhere.

The red hair, though longer, he'd never forgotten.

The figure he'd eagerly sought on the battlefield but never seen.

He looked at him again, his throat tightening at the changes he saw in the angel. No. Not an angel anymore, he was a demon, now.

It was the only information Aziraphale had been able to gather since their forced separation.

Overhearing fragments of a conversation in a hallway, he had learned that anyone who defied the Almighty had become a demon.

"Well, that went down like a lead balloon."

The demon's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, but Aziraphale, who hadn't been paying attention, asked, "Sorry, what was that?"

Turning to him, the demon replied, "I said, 'Well, that went down like a lead balloon.

Aziraphale nodded.

"Yes, yes, it did."

The demon continued in a slightly lower voice, “Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me. First offence and everything."

He paused before continuing, "I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway."

There was no doubt that it was Jophiel.

He may have lost his memory, but his mind was unchanged.

Aziraphale rejoiced inwardly to know that he had remained the same despite everything.

But he couldn't let him continue, or even approve of it. They'd paid the price last time, Aziraphale replied, trying to find arguments that would divert the demon's attention from this train of thought.

"Well, it must be bad..."

He stopped because he was about to say the name he wasn't supposed to.

The demon realizing that Aziraphale didn't know his name, said quietly, "Crawley."

Crawley.

That was his name now.

His demon name.

"... Crawley."

Aziraphale repeated the demon's name to get used to the new sound, then continued, "Otherwise...you wouldn't have tempted them."

Crawley shrugged and replied, "Oh, they just said, 'Get up there and make some trouble.'"

Though it cost him to admit it, Aziraphale replied with a sideways glance at the demon, "Well, obviously. You're a demon. It's what you do."

Then he looked straight ahead.

"Not very subtle of the Almighty. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a "Don't Touch" sign. I mean, why not put it on top of a tall mountain? Or on the moon? Makes you wonder what God's really planning."

Oh no!

Not the questions again!

Aziraphale hadn't waited all this time to start all over again. He turned to Crawley and said in a scholarly tone, like a child being taught a lesson, "Best not to speculate. It's all part of the Great Plan. It's not for us to understand. It's ineffable."

"The Great Plan's ineffable?"

Aziraphale nodded and continued, "Exactly. It is beyond understanding and incapable of being put into words."

Believe me, I've tried.

And we lost everything.

You've lost everything.

Crawley stared at him and said bluntly, "Didn't you have a flaming sword?"

To say that Aziraphale was surprised would have been an understatement.

How would Crawley know?

Did he remember that it was his own sword?

Aziraphale didn't know how to answer, he wasn't ready for that kind of question at all, so he looked away.

Crawley insisted, "You did. It was flaming like anything."

The flaming sword.

His one tangible reminder of Jophiel.

After Crawley's obliteration, the sword had been put with the other angelic weapons, forgotten, and when the great war had come, it had been just another weapon.

So Aziraphale had claimed it.

Which meant that the only place Crawley could have seen him with the sword in his hand was during the Great War. In fact, Aziraphale had only swung it once, more for effect than to fight. It was hard to fight when you weren't on either side, so he'd stayed on the sidelines.

Crawley continued, snapping him out of his thoughts, "What happened to it? Lost it already, have you?"

Lost it?

How could he believe that... Aziraphale would never lose the sword!

Stop. Crawley didn't know.

The only reason Aziraphale could have parted with the sword was because someone else needed it more than he did.

He murmured, "Gave it away."

He'd done it with a heavy heart, but he'd never have been able to look himself in the face if he'd kept it in the name of remembering some lost happiness.

"You what?"

Exasperated, Aziraphale repeated, "I gave it away." and wanted to justify himself, "There are vicious animals. It's going to be cold out there. And she's expecting already."

Why did Crawley look at him as if he'd suddenly picked up the moon?

He didn't even seem to be listening to his explanations and smiled stupidly.

"I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing."

He realized he'd said it out loud when the demon replied, "Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing."

Aziraphale sighed with relief and replied, "Oh, oh, thank you -- oh, thank you. It's been bothering me."

As they watched Adam fight a lion with the flaming sword, Crawley commented, "I've been worrying, too. What if I did the right thing with the whole 'eat the apple' business? A demon can get in a lot of trouble for doing the right thing.

Angels, too, for the opposite reasons, obviously.

I know all about it.

"It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh?"

Crawley chuckled, and Aziraphale turned to him, tempted to join in the laughter, but settling for a small smile as the demon continued, "If I did the good thing and you did the bad one."

Aziraphale couldn't help laughing with Crawley this time, but his laughter faded quickly.

It was too soon.

He pulled himself together.

"No. It wouldn't be funny at all."

Crawley just shrugged.

"Well..."

Suddenly, the clouds that had gathered in the sky grew darker, and the storm broke before the rain could fall on them.

Instinctively, Aziraphale spread his wing over Crawley, who approached to seek shelter.

Aziraphale's throat tightened.

This moment vividly reminded the angel of another.

That moment when Jophiel... No, Crawley had protected him the day they first met.

For a brief moment, Aziraphale felt the same closeness as that day and couldn't contain the emotion that overcame him.

The angel looked straight ahead and blessed the rain that hid his tears.

By the time the rain had stopped, he had recovered, and when the last drop fell, he folded his wing, and though Crawley remained close to him, they soon went their separate ways.

Each to his own side of the wall.

Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder, watching the black-clad figure rise into the sky, wondering when he'd see him next.

Then Aziraphale pulled himself together.

Crawley was alive.

He looked all right.

That was enough for now.

Present time - Heaven

"In your head, Angel."

Aziraphale had to show great control not to react in a way that would expose him, even though he was alone in his office.

"Crowley?! But how?"

"I wish I knew, Angel. Since... since the kiss... all my memories come back. And I thought I would try to communicate with you that way, like back then."

Aziraphale blushed, glad no one could see him.

Crowley continued, "I remember everything. Looks like we have a lot of catching up to do, especially since this isn't the first time I've remembered things this way."

"This...uh, I'm sorry...I have a lot to explain. I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."

"Angel. Let's stop here."

Aziraphale felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

Had all these secrets gotten the better of their bond?

Had...

"Let's stop with the, I'm sorry, I forgive you and so on. We are way past that. There's nothing to forgive."

Aziraphale couldn't hold back a sigh of relief.

Then he asked in a concerned tone, "How are you feeling?"

"Well... I got 6000 years of memories in one kiss, so you can imagine that's a lot to process. But I'm okay. I just need time to sort through all these memories. However, I don't know what is more shocking. Knowing who I was before, or knowing that it wasn't our first kiss."

Aziraphale heard the playfulness in the demon's tone, even if it was in his head, and rolled his eyes.

"Angel? Are you still here?"

"Yes..."

"I'm the one who should be asking how you are. I guess it's not easy being up there again."

"I..."

Aziraphale's throat tightened as he looked around, at the white walls, shadowless, featureless, colorless, warmthless. He already missed the bookstore, even if it had only been a few hours.

"It's like being back in prison, even if it is of my own free will."

"Why did you do it, Angel? Now that I'm calmer, I don't believe your words about going back to the way it was, making me an angel again and all that, there's more to it, isn't there?"

"Crowley, I..."

He was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Someone's coming. We need to cut the link."

"Okay, Angel. When do I -"

"I'll contact you."

Another knock on the door.

"Goodbye, Crowley."

As he ended the connection, he heard Crowley's last words, "Take care, Angel."

Only three words.

But they were enough to warm his heart and give him the strength to face what came next.

Present time - Earth

"Hey, six shots of espresso. Open up!"

Crowley snapped out of his thoughts and turned his head to see Nina knocking on the Bentley's window. He rolled down the window and asked, "What's up? My name is Crowley, by the way."

"I know that. The bookseller told me when we first met. But I like that little nickname. So how did it go with him anyway?"

Crowley rolled his eyes and sighed, "It's... complicated. "

"Well, you two are pretty weird."

"You can talk!"

Nina leaned over and replied, " Look, I don't know about you, but it's been a long day, not to mention I didn't sleep all night because of that damn ball. So why don't we go and have a fight over something stronger than coffee?"

The prospect of a good glass of wine after the events of the last few hours was not without its appeal, so Crowley got out of the car and shook his head when he saw Nina heading for the pub.

"Nope, not there. Let's go to the bookshop."

If Muriel would let him in.

Moments later, they entered and Crowley called out, "Anyone there?"

It was only a few seconds before Muriel, book in hand, emerged from behind a shelf and exclaimed, "Ah? it's you! Aziraphale. Sorry about that. I mean, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale said that if you came back, I'd have to let you and let you do whatever you wanted, and, his words, 'even if it was to drain my cellar.

Crowley, his throat tightening, felt Nina's gaze on him and asked, "When did he tell you this?"

"He left me a letter on the desk."

"Crowley?"

The demon turned to Nina who asked, "What does that mean? Where's the bookseller?"

Crowley sighed and replied, "Do you have time? Because this is going to be a long story. I'm gonna get some wine. In the meantime, bring your girlfriend - Maggie."

Then he turned to Muriel and said, "Do you know where the glasses are? Bring four."

"Four? But there are only three of you."

Crowley knew he was taking a risk, but he had a good feeling about Muriel and they deserved to know the truth, so he replied gently, "How about leaving the hive for good?"

"You're forgetting about the bees."

Muriel had no idea what the demon was talking about.

"Bees?"

He turned back to them and explained, "Angels are like bees. Fiercely protective of their hive if you're trying to get inside."

He spun around and continued, "Once you're in... well, I mean...is it even faintly possible that an unauthorized demon might be just wandering around in Heaven unescorted?"

Muriel shook their head, and Crowley replied as he walked away, "Mm. Bees. "

Following him, Muriel exclaimed, "But you don't look like a bee. You look like a murder hornet or a snake or a..."

The demon disappeared behind a pillar and reappeared, dressed in white, gray and gold, a little odd for Muriel's taste. Then he said, "Bees. Right. Your office. I'll follow you."

Muriel had no choice but to head for their office, followed by the demon, who was hopping around in an absolutely ridiculous manner.

However, they had to admit that the demon was right: no one was paying any attention to them. Not even the Archangels Michael and Uriel as they passed by.

A short time later, they were standing in front of Muriel's desk.

"Mm, nice office."

Muriel, who sensed he didn't mean it and who themself didn't find their office all that nice, replied, "It's a bit lonely. That was why I was so pleased when they said I finally had a job on Earth."

Muriel didn't know why, but it was easy to confide in him. Maybe because he was one of the first people who hadn't treated them as insignificant.

He asked gently, "Don't you ever see anyone here?"

"Well, every few hundred years someone comes and asks me for something."

In fact, Muriel realized that they'd talked to more people in a few days on Earth than they'd talked to in their entire existence as an angel.

Muriel clutched Aziraphale's note in their pocket.

Whatever Crowley asks or tells you, trust him.

They took off their white helmet, placed it on a chair and replied in a clear voice, "I'm ready."

"Perfect my little bee, would you be so kind and fly to the kitchen to get glasses. And something for you, as I am not sure if you have tasted alcohol yet."

Muriel nodded before they went to get the glasses.

The demon looked around, remembering the scene before Aziraphale's departure.

His confession.

The kiss.

Then he shook his head.

Not now.

He made his way to the cellar and a few moments later was sitting at a table with Muriel, Nina and Maggie, who meanwhile had joined them. He poured a glass of wine for the two women and himself. As for Muriel, who seemed to be a quick study, they had made themself a steaming cup of chocolate in Jim's mug.

Crowley couldn't help but turn Jim into Muriel on the winged mug with the flick of a finger.

Muriel, who noticed it immediately, smiled at him, obviously delighted.

The gesture had not gone unnoticed by the two humans.

He raised an eyebrow and said, "What, after last night you're not going to tell me you're surprised, are you?"

Nina retorted, "Not since you caused a general blackout in the neighborhood."

Crowley huffed, took a sip of wine and replied, "Well. Sorry about that. Anyway. You will hear more incredible things tonight."

"Why are you telling us?"

It was Maggie who asked.

Crowley swirled his glass in his hands and answered softly, "Because things have changed, and if we are to be prepared, we need people on our side."

"Prepared?"

"Your side?"

"You mean the bookseller and you?"

"Yes. But it is better that I start at the beginning. I hope you're ready."

The humans and the angel nodded eagerly.

"Let's go then."

He took another sip of wine and pushed his glass down, he would need to keep his mind clear.

But he was Crowley, a facetious ex-angel and now still facetious demon, he did things with style.

So he took on a serious expression and began with a mysterious tone.

"It all started with an over-enthusiastic angel who realized he needed help to do his job. Even if it was just turning a crank in a scroll..."

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #fix-it

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futureplayboibunnie · 2 years ago

Text

‘Disrespect’

Surgeon! Strange x fem! reader

- i got a request for this and oh my lord, writing this honestly had me in a state of disbelief. i think i kind of got carried away but fuck it we ball. i <3 dom Stephen sm xx

You often had to remind yourself that Dr Strange simply doesn't function like other people.

Working with him was never ideal, especially in a busy hospital with little to no time to do anything, it did give you the opportunity to idle at how ingeniously he worked. Stephen was exceptionally skilled and he was also exceptionally arrogant; his need to prove he's the smartest man in the room by any means possible provoked you, sometimes you thought he did it on purpose to annoy you specifically. Getting a doctorate didn't make him God's righteous man, most of the time you wanted to curbstomp his stupidly perfect teeth in. Deceit and hubris was always plastered on his face and even with that million dollar smile that women fawned over, you could see right through him. What made everything ten times worst is that after a particularly gruelling night shift, it was only you and him left to clean up the operating theatre.

It felt like the universe was just fucking with you today.

Stuck cleaning up the mess Stephen made with him alone only made you reflect upon why he was hellbent on being an asshole to everybody. And why he had to be attractive whilst doing so. It was easy to see he was attractive but so hard for you to actually admit it. He had all the physical attributes that made you drool but his personality was as appealing to you as shit under your shoe. Stephen found his way to prominence not by just being an incredible neurosurgeon but by fucking through the entire staff; all the nurses found themselves bending over backwards to impress him but he just dismissed them, you honestly couldn't believe the gall he had- it was inhuman.

Now all you could do was survey him silently and not acknowledge him at all.

Stephen was having trouble even making eye contact with you today, the thought made him chuckle inwardly. Normally, you'd gawk at him stupidly when you believed he wasn't looking but he felt your eyes burn into his skull- he couldn't help but consider the possibility that you weren't death staring him but actually...eyefucking him. Stephen basked in the feeling, his confidence doubled tenfold usually but today you were deliberately ignoring him. He couldn't have that. Not since you were the most gorgeous distraction he's ever had. He just kept thinking of you when he wasn't supposed to and Stephen wanted to act on his primitive urges.

‘’You're being unusually untalkative.’’ Stephen remarked as you were both washing your hands in the sink, almost as if to clean yourself of this stupid day. ‘’Who pissed in your cereal?’’ He quirked an eyebrow at you, gazing at you through the mirror.

‘’Maybe I just don't fucking like you.’’ You gave him a dazzling, chilly 'fuck off' smile alongside your unwelcome glare. Stephen loved it- your persistent need to shrug him aside, it was a taste of his own medicine.

‘’Don't lie. It doesn't suit a woman like you.’’

‘’Like me?’’ Your tone filled with offence and displeasure as your eyes narrowed. Who the fuck did he think he was to evaluate you? It annoyed you to a senseless degree.

‘’You're too pretty to lie. Stop lying to yourself, you do like me. And you hate it.’’ Stephen stared at you directly as he dried his hands off, his expression certain and his smile sly.

Stephen knew you got him in a 'gotcha' moment. Your face was vacant, eyes gleaming wide and doe alongside an agape mouth and creased eyebrows. He smirked at you like a stupid all American textbook jock as if he could see right through you and all your innermost thoughts. You resumed your movements and gathered your loose hair and tied it into a ponytail and connected gazes daren't oscillate. Stephen loved watching you work and going about doing your own thing, he liked that you thawed when you gave him a sweet smile.

‘’Where would you get that impression that I do infact tolerate you, Doctor?’’ You couldn't help but flirt with him, not when he was being so brazen and saying exactly what was on his mind- you could do the exact same.

He took a beat to study you and look at you in this resolve. Beautiful. Charming. Saccharine.

Stephen cocked his head, thinned his eyes and simply said: ‘’Intuition?’’

‘’Don't lie. It doesn't suit a man like you.’’ You repeated his prior statement with a small smirk and knowing character.

Stephen let out a breathless scoff at your purpose. You were enjoying yourself completely and he had this overwhelming surge to just...bend you over the operating table. The idea was completely out of it but you were making him feel this new sensation: it was thrilling and completely new. New and shiny. Stephen stalked towards you in slow steps and he reached his hand and out and pulled on your ponytail. He was pleased with the small gasp you let out.

‘’I like this. You should wear it up more often.’’ He mumbled thickly, eyes heavy and half lidded as he stared down at you.

‘’Mmm...I don't know... you seem awfully inattentive, Doctor.’’ You hummed as Stephen was drawing closer to you, lulling your head back slightly and crooning in warm pleasure. You were clearly amused.

‘’Baby, I'm very detail oriented. Don't question my awareness.’’ Stephen scolded at you and if you were being honest, it aroused the everloving God out of you. In this context, you'd allow yourself a brief moment of liberty to succumb to his...charms.

The way he called you baby made you feel wobbly. Baby. Mmm...hearing him say that to you made you bite your lip in anticipation. This cruel frustration was certainly making you feel flustered and he was pleased to see such a scene. He was so happy. So damn happy he got you in such a state. Him? Making you blush? You? Of all people?

‘’Awareness my ass.’’ You chuckled as you peered up at him flirtatiously, a cute little smile playing at your lips too. Oh, so you can be fun. Stephen just scoffed at your determinted nature. ‘’But for the sake of pettiness and my spiral into insanity, if you are so aware...tell me what makes you aware of me?’’ You couldn't help but provoke him further, allowing yourself the selfishness of prying into his head to see how he actually views you. If he actually wanted you like that.

‘’Eyes.’’ Stephen mumbled under his breath, pupils darting elsewhere as if he didn't want you to actually hear the words that came out of his mouth but you were attentive, you obviously did. For fucks sake, he's deciding to get shy now? That's new.

‘’Eyes? That's rich considering you undress me with yours.’’ You challenged him.

‘’As always, you see right through me.’’ Stephen didn't say it in a way that was sarcastic or certain, it was strange...like him. He latched onto your waist, large hand pinching you while the other was still yanking on your ponytail. Your gasp was palpable, your breath warm.

What made you even more excited was that someone could walk in on you at any moment. It was so naughty.

‘’You're detrimental Stephen.’’ You said with lust in your eyes and Stephen didn't really take the time to listen to your words when his mouth was already plastered against yours.

Mhmm... his lips were nice but you knew he was dangerous, he had such a special ability to make every single woman weak in the knees but you were more durable than he initially thought. Stephen was incredibly eager, lips tasting at yours like he was starved of a proper meal, well, he had been eyeing you like you were a full course meal all day- it was only fitting. This whole ordeal was entirely unprofessional but you weren't in your right mind to care about it, Stephen Strange was right here, kissing you, feeling you through your scrubs; it was making you impatient, the air was getting hotter, your clothes suddenly felt too tight.

Stephen on the other hand was troubled by the way he was already so drawn to you. Normally it would be the woman that initiated these things with him but he was bending the norm, he was chasing after you. He was the chaser now and you were obviously pleased with yourself. He thought you tasted lavish and plentiful, he was swimming in you. Stephen's patience was wearing thin, it was a change of pace considering how careful and concise he was with his work, his sex life was more demanding. His mouth still fastened to yours, he walked you over to the operating table; you couldn't even catch your breath before he swivelled you around and bent you over, kicking your legs apart with his feet.

‘’You're flushed.’’ Stephen lowered his lips down to your ear, smirking at your little gasps of surprise in the process. ‘’That's how I know when you want to fuck. Note taken.’’ He threaded gis fingers through your ponytail and tugged the hairtie out of it, letting your hall fall down your back and shoulders.

‘’How do I know when you want to? When you randomly decide to bend me over on the operating table?’’ You asked him with a heavy voice, tilting your head to the side to peer up at him.

‘’No. When you're in the room. That's all it takes.’’ Stephen grunted. Your heart dipped at the statement, a strange feeling blooming inside of your lower stomach with his dirty words. You were wild about him, back arching already- he hadn't even taken your clothes off yet. Feeling pathetic didn't even seem worth it anymore, not when Stephen Strange was illiciting so many new reactions out of you; it was so different, he was making you feel things you couldn't even get out yourself.

For fucks sake, was he made out of magic or something? It felt like he was. There was something so inherently wrong with you, wrong with you both- this shouldn't be happening! You were colleagues! And you hated how much of an asshole he could be. But he was a severely attractive asshole. The type of man that truly understands how the mind works, how the body works. That doctorate really was coming in handy now.

Stephen's beautiful mind was already coming up with filthy ways to make you feel so good- he was excited and so damn aroused. Dear God, was this what it felt like to be sixteen again? He was acting like he's never seen a naked woman let alone actually fuck one before. Stephen pulled your pants down and you had no objections, in fact, you were itching to get it off.

‘’Don't forget that I respect the hell out of you.’’ He said as he ripped your underwear off, the elastic burning the underside of the thighs from the friction.

‘’Why do you say that?’’ You asked all breathy and sensual. Wondering what he actually meant.

‘’Because I'm about to fuck you full of disrespect.’’ Stephen's voice was heavy and husky. It was a promise and a threat all in one. what really tilted vou was when he pinned your arms behind your back tightly, the other hand flying to tug and pull at your loose hair.

You were about to melt into a puddle of goo, your knees buckled and stephen felt incredibly proud of himself. You had the ability to make him feel ten feet tall and completely elated. Your pussy was clenching around nothing and all you could do was whine at him to do something, satiate your grovelling need that required far too much attention.

‘’You want that?’’ Stephen asked, hoping you agree and confirmed what he already knew.

You peered up at him again. ‘’Go find someone else to boss around-‘’

Stephen scoffed at you, internally knowing you absolutely fucking love it when he did tell you what to do. You made it obvious, you flushed everytime you were near him- he couldn't help but let it stroke his ego. He wondered what you looked like stroking his cock. Although the idea seems far too appealing to be real, he simply couldn't tolerate your behaviour. By disrespect he didn't mean talk back at him.

You froze, heartbeats slowing like they'd been dropped in molasses. Stephen held you by your hair and pulled you up to his torso, like it was a leash. Your breath stopped when his front pressed against your back, he felt so warm, so fucking good. You could have groaned if you had the air to do so. With a slight tug, your head tilted to the side and his lips brushed the hollow behind your ear.

‘’I respect you but you're appalling me when all I want is to fuck...this.’’ Stephen grumbled as he spanked your bare behind. You squirmed against him relentlessly, mouth already foaming as he gripped your chin.

‘’Respect my wishes and fuck me disrespectfully.’’ You moaned at him, begging for something, anything- it was deplorable and you were sure you wouldn't be able to live it down.

Stephen didn't respond he just slammed you back down on the operating table. Your lips part in shock at his possessiveness, your body tensing and the anticipation growing immensely. Already spending too much time in your head, you were tethered back to reality by another spank on your ass- it'll turn into a burning shade of red soon.

Stephen was happy in the state that he got you, he was clearly pleased to see you considering how hard he was; he tugged his cock out of it's confines, it was growing painful leaving you like this with every second that passed.

You gasped as he slid into you so easily and Stephen thought he was bathing in the heavens. that voice was angelic, your moans a perfect instrumental. All he knew is that you set him ablaze as you stretched to accomodate his frighteningly thick size. The flames of hate and passion burned in equal measure, fusing and merging into one heady concotion. Your plea for more was silent, your back arching as his grip on your wrists growing tighter than ever.

‘’S-Someone could c-come in!’’ You struggled as he started rutting into you, the realisation that you were fucking your colleague finally dawning on you.

‘’Does that make your pussy wet?’’ He chuckled at you breathlessly. ‘’I bet it does, doesn't it?’’

The dickhead was laughing down at you. You shaked your head, attempting to deny the truth and in turn denying how much you wanted him. His head was cast in doubt at you

‘’The fear of people realising you're such a slut for me. That you're weak for me. Being caught with me balls deep inside you...it makes you want to cum, doesn't it?’’ He fucked you in hard quick strokes, taking complete control over you. Your breath sharpens and your moans heightens as you draw closer and closer to your inevitable end. He swatted your ass again and you felt your insides drop.

‘’Is this your version of playful banter, Doctor?’’ You tried your hand at flirting but Stephen was dead serious. He wasn't in the mood for your glute jokes.

‘’Answer my question and I'll answer yours.’’ Stephen plunged into you, deeper and deeper hitting that spot that made you see shattered starlight, reaching a peak you didn't even know you had in you.

You attempted to stammer out a response but your tongue turned numb and forgot how to function.

‘’Baby, don't be polite now.’’ He cooed at you like a stupid little schoolgirl.

‘’I-I...for fucks sake...Yes!’’ You huffed out, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you melt under him.

‘’My version of playful banter is watching you on all fours crawling to me. Seeing how beautiful you look begging on your knees for my cock.’’

You moaned at the sheer thought of it.

Stephen wasn't joking. He wasn't anywhere near it. He wanted to watch you naked, crawling to him, begging for his cock.

Hm….the idea was certainly appealling.

Stephen was spurred on by it all and fucked into you, heavier, crazier, it was simply scandalous. His dick slid in and out of you so easily, you were wetter than you had ever been before. Your stomach tightens with heat, your thighs growing slicker and slicker as he pulsated inside of you- Stephen swallowed at your incredible disposition, pulling on your hair harder and harder like it was his own personal dog leash. In this position you were willing to admit you were his bitch.

Stephen's eyes light up and his nostrils flare with every stroke. His cool demeanour slipping as he let loose groans he was bottling up, raw desire bled through the cracks. He had to make sure you came. You were tensing up. So damn close to the sharp precipice. Your orgasm slammed into you and fireworks errupted behind your eyes. Fuck. It felt too good to be real. All of this pent up tension drawn back through sex is definitely not under cliched- but you couldn't find yourself caring. Your cry alone made Stephen release thick ropes of his cum inside of you. He came so fucking hard he almost sank to the floor, and that never happened. Ever. Afterwards, the air was filled and with dense sex.

‘’H-How-Why..?’’You blinked when he pulled out of you. ‘’Wow.’’ You looked a little shellshocked, eyes widening with what had actually happened.

Stephen couldn't help but laugh as he pulled your pants up and straightened you back up. He felt bad for not taking the time to clean you up but he was wary of the time and the fact that someone actually could spot you both. You readjusted your stance in an effort to seem more confident but when you swivelled around to face him, all Stephen could see was your expression- completely taken aback.

‘’It's okay, you'll get used to it.’’ He smiled at you, his eyes gleaming as he went to wash his hands in the sink, doing the exact same thing he did before he fucked you into another dimension, completely unbothered. You tossed him a scowl.

‘’Used to it? You're expecting this to happen again?’’ You sounded way more surprised than Stephen had liked.

‘’Yes. Next time for hours in my bed...I mean...unless you want to be fucked over another piece of medical apparatus.’’ He turned his head to smirk at you.

‘’Mmm….I liked the operating table.’’

#dr stephen strange #dr strange angst #dr strange fluff #dr strange x fem!reader #dr strange x y/n #stephen strange smut #dr strange smut #stephen strange #doctor stephen strange #dr strange oneshot

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maro0on · 4 months ago

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I know im like 3 days late on this review/thoughts for the thunder saga-- but do i care?? no. so here it is

Suffering

overall i really do liked this song. it was deffo a whiplash from monster's vibes to suffering.. and like it was already hinted that "penelope" was a siren due to the 'daughter' part. it was def confusing at first glance but once it sets it, you start connecting things and i love it. it also shows ody's wits which i also love.

the only thing is i didnt like ody's rap part cuz it was giving like.... early verisons of epic ngl 😩😩 like its trying to be like a version of hamilton or something idk (no offence jay)-- all iknow that its giving early version of epic

7.5/10

Different Beast

i also really liked this one cuz it really showed his character development, especially right after monster. the edginess??? really gives you the chills you know like "omg character development?? brutality?? ruthlessness??? perioddd"

i guess the only thing is that-- ofcourse... the rap (or the his explanation ig) in the beginning (ig im not a very big fan of rap idk)

8/10

Scylla

not really much to say??? (wow professional reviewer) all i know is that its really good and i really liked it... especially the animatic in the live actually😳... really gives me the chills

9/10

Mutiny

this is the part where jay was sharpening his blade and slowly cutting into my heart (metaphorically) BECAUSE like sheettt the prophecy has been fullfilled ig

I see the sacrifice of man ✅ I see portrayals of betrayal✅ And a brother's final stand✅

and the reprises and callbacks to the songs???? but in a more heart wrenching way??? that was the first actual stab jay gave me 😭😭

the way i cried inside (because for some reason i cant cry.. maybe im dead inside who knows).... it kills me AND ALSO THE VOICE ACTING?? top tier. no more words to be said.

10/10

Thunder Bringer

zeus is a bitch. period. cant convince me otherwise.... except for this violation

SAMANTHA WHEN I GET YOU ISTG YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE-- /j

no really cuz WHYD YOU MAKE HIM HOT HERE?!?!?!? HES SUPPOSED TO BE SO FRIKIN HATEABLE YOU CANT EVEN-- send help jesus christ--

and again... the callbacks/reprise just got worse this is the metaphorical sword to the heart by jay...

and this part too.. oh lordy lord

it just kills me and my heart... that "i know" AODUHAAIUDBAGA

my only question is.. what happened to mic quality of eurylochus lol????

10/10

ig thats all lmao im excited for the wisdom saga, more specifically "legendary" and "gods games" LETS GO ATHENA

#epic #epic the thunder saga #epic the underworld saga #epic the musical #the odyssey #jorge rivera herrans #musical #greek mythology #eurylochus #odysseus #review

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venusjeon · 2 years ago

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golden arrows

the god Apollo is dared to seduce the first mortal his eyes set upon without revealing his identity, so changing his appearance slightly and taking the name of Hoseok, he crosses paths with you. but as it happens, the only man you say you'd ever lie with is Apollo... also, you're on a quest to steal his golden arrows.

♔ PAIRING: apollo!hoseok x mortal!reader

♔ GENRE: greek mythology, historical & bet au, adventure, fluff, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 9.6k

♔ WARNINGS: religion themes, drinking, swearing, period-typical sexism, animal hunting&sacrifice, nudity, kissing, mentions of non-consensual sex, sex happens but no smut soz, murder

♔ BETA: @yoonoclock <3 thank you so much again !!

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: nvm the fic can we appreciate the banner bc i kinda served with it. no but this has been in my wips for almost as long as i've had this blog so i'm v excited for you guys to read it :D

Heroic Age

Sing to me, ‘o muse, the song of a priestess who was loved by a god willing to forgive her wicked crime.

It was a peaceful night on OLYMPUS, the home of the gods, where everyone had gone to sleep hours ago under a black sky dusted with stars.

Everyone save Apollo, Hermes, and Dionysus, who refused to be parted with their jug of wine that refilled on its own so the party should never end. So much of it had they consumed, though, that even the god of the drink had come to neglect his cup, slumping over the table while his half-brothers slouched on their chairs.

But what they were yet to lose was their sense of humour, as they teased each other about their tragic love lives. Now, it was Apollo’s turn to be taken the piss out of.

“At least the objects of my desire run towards me, not away,” laughed Hermes. “What was that nymph’s name, Daphne?”

Apollo gestured his discrepancy by waving his index finger side to side. “That was the doing of that winged fuck, Eros.” Famously, he had struck Apollo’s heart with an arrow that kindled love and Daphne’s with one that banished it. Pursuing her through the forest until she begged to be turned into a laurel tree to escape his advances, Apollo learned never to get on the wrong side of the god of desire again. “He’s always had it in for me, I tell you.”

“Sure, yes, blame him,” twice-born Dionysus said, cheek still glued to the table. “We can all play that game.”

Hermes nodded. “Admit it, brother, only the thrill of consorting with an immortal draws them to you. And it fades quickly once they realise you can’t pleasure them in bed.”

“Oh, you tell yourself that’s it.”

“I bet you my herald’s staff.”

“Bet what, exactly?” Apollo scoffed. “It’s not like I can stop being a god. Your joke of a point cannot be proved, you fool.”

“Except, it can,” Dionysus said as he sat upright, but Apollo didn’t understand, so he sighed, “Isn’t intelligence supposed to be one of your domains? We’re no strangers to changing our appearance so that mortals can’t recognise us, so seduce the first one you see without revealing your true identity. It will confirm they’re not pretending to love you just because you’re a god.”

“Another of my domains is prophecy, you seem to forget. I can’t lie. Otherwise, who would believe my oracles?” Apollo pointed out, then smirked. “It’s also why I can be trusted when I say you two are my least favourite Olympians.”

He was allowed to joke, right?

“More merit if you succeed. Which you won’t, of course,” Hermes said with a smile shared by Dionysus.

Apollo pursed his lips. He was aware the wine was to blame for his taking offence at the mocking tone of his brothers, but he couldn’t help his own pride.

“Very well. Kiss your staff goodbye.”

He would show them.

Past noon the next day, shining Apollo descended from the summits of Olympus having taken the likeness of a youth whose good looks equalled his—physical attraction was after all a part of love, as was Aphrodite’s other realm, beauty, a part of Apollo’s identity.

He would take the name of Hoseok. It meant ‘a name known throughout the entire country’, so it could perfectly be a new epithet of his, like Phoebus or Delius were. Yes, not a lie. All good. So, Hoseok chose a forest near the city of TEGEA to wander through, hoping to come across someone. That someone was you.

Bowstring drawn and arrow aimed at three sword-wielding men.

Without a second’s delay, Hoseok made appear his golden bow and arrows, known to never miss their archer’s target. Surely coming to your rescue would be a good start? Except... you might need none.

The men were close enough to trust their own weapon outdid yours, failed to consider you’d move fast enough to dodge the sharp edge of their bronze swords and that by grabbing your arrow by its shaft, you’d manage to graze their skin with its tip, forcing them to step back with a grunt.

Unwilling to wait and find out how they’d counterattack, Hoseok nocked and then released his own arrow, which as intended, landed right before their feet in the form of a normal wooden one.

You turned around with a frown. Who–?

“That can’t be fair, three against one?”

The sound of the men fleeing behind you at the sight of this stranger halted your thoughts. His face certainly did too, as well as his bright hair that shone under the sunlight like spun gold. With a satisfied smile, he stored his weapons in the quiver he carried on his back and approached you, chest slightly out as if he owned the forest. From each step he gave seemed to spring a harmony that filled the air, but you still gripped your bow, wary. He noticed. “I mean you no harm.”

Once he was in front of you, Hoseok was able to take a better look at your face, one he instantly liked. What a relief that bet or not, he’d pursue you. However, he also noticed your smile was forced, as though being saved was an inconvenience.

“Good to know. Thank you for the help. I’ve no time to lose but if our paths ever cross again, I promise to repay your favour.”

And just like that, you walked past him.

“Wait!” He turned around to catch up with you once he got over the unforeseeable blow. “Allow me to escort you out of the forest. There may be more bandits lurking about.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

Clearly... He chuckled, “But I might need yours.” Just not for the reason being discussed.

Now that he thought about it, was this the work of Hermes? After all, he was the one in charge of keeping roads and travellers safe, as well as thieves.

You looked him up and down while walking. A man with such a build, he certainly would not need help, and if he wanted something of yours, he could just take it—or try. So he really was just a kind stranger, huh. “As you wish.”

Hoseok smiled, held hands behind his back. “Tell me, what is your name and where do you come from?”

“I am Y/N, and I’m a priestess of Apollo in PYLOS.” Hoseok almost gasped in delight. Well, this was fate!

Although based on the fact you dressed a man’s knee-length chiton and wore your hair tight up in a subtle bun, he’d sooner have guessed you were a follower of his twin sister, the huntress Artemis. The reason for it was probably that it was safer to travel as a man, but either way Hoseok was fucked. His priestesses were sworn to chastity.

“We are a long way from Pylos.”

“And going further away north-east, I know. I’m… on a quest.” The stranger’s visible intrigue pressured you into providing some context, “My younger brother Jungkook is a servant at the royal palace, and two days ago he was charged with treason for trying to murder the prince, of which I believe he is innocent. We weren’t allowed to speak but he’s a sweet boy, such evil would never cross his mind. He’s being kept in a cell now, awaiting an execution only I can prevent, for the king said he’d be pardoned if in seven days I brought him Apollo’s golden arrows...”

Hoseok had to stop himself from making a dramatic halt. If Jungkook was indeed as innocent as you claimed, you could pray for him to aid your brother either by lending you the arrows or making the king see reason. You needn’t be on a quest. Unless, “You mean to steal them.”

“I’ve no choice,” you said bitterly with your eyes cast down, ashamed all the same. Priestesses were supposed to honour the gods, yet you were about to rob one of them, yours. It was a blasphemous defiance, hubris, but also the only way to save Jungkook. You glanced at the stranger, wondered whether he was contemplating stopping you. “I bet you regret scaring those three robbers away earlier. It is odd that I haven’t rightfully been struck down already with a golden arrow shot from the Heavens for what I’m about to do. I know I’d deserve it.”

Hoseok understood your hands were tied. It was not you whom his anger was directed at, but the king, for sending you off on such a mission. He’d deal with him.

First, though, came you. No matter your circumstances, you were the first mortal he’d seen, and he’d already decided where to display Hermes’ staff in his palace in Olympus.

“Maybe Apollo has looked into your heart and seen it is pure, and will punish that who is making you do this instead. If only you pray so to him.”

You scoffed. “I think he has more important things to do than listen to the prayers of a nobody.”

A nobody? But you were one of his priestesses! There were few mortals dearer to him.

“I assume, then, that you’re headed to CORINTH.”

“Correct. I’m to catch a ship there to cross the gulf. But enough about me. What do they call you, and why do you find yourself in this forest?”

A forest that, you’d failed to notice, was crowded. Nymphs of nearby trees, flowers, lakes, and springs, all gathered to stare at Hoseok in awe as he walked. Animals too. They could see his ethereal self under his disguise, yet dared not approach him, hiding instead from your sight. Were he not busy, he wouldn’t mind lying there to sing and play the lyre for them.

“I am Hoseok, and my brothers… want me to meet a girl. I was on my way to her.”

“A girl? Do you mean, to take as wife?”

Hoseok astutely answered the first question only, “Yes. I’m told she will likewise be in Corinth.”

“If you can keep up, I’d not mind a travel companion.” Hoseok was about to say keeping up was not a problem with him when he realised the animals were dispersing and the nymphs forming a crowd ahead. You followed his gaze and groaned. “Another obstacle? Who am I, Theseus?”

Hoseok laughed, “Every hero faces challenges.”

Thief, rather. Though being called hero did make a flush creep across your cheeks… until reaching the hubbub, where all colour drained from them. The nine Muses were there, a youth knelt and clasping the knees of one of them in the manner of a supplicant.

“Please,” he begged, “I didn’t mean it, it was just a jest!”

They weren’t moved by his tears. “All here heard you set yourself above shining Apollo, speak ill of him. It is only fitting your mouth be sewn shut with a lyre’s string as punishment.”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows, amused. Nice one. He wished he could be there in his real form to do the job himself. But seeing you attempt to gulp the lump in your throat beside him, he could tell you were horrified. Did you fear to share the same fate? You would, in truth, had Hoseok caught you trying to steal his arrows, but now that he knew your justification and was set on seducing you, a different future was to be woven by the Moirai.

He whispered in your ear, “I think I dropped my bag of coins back where we met. I promise I won’t be long.”

You sighed, “I’ll watch the spectacle in the meantime.” To know what to expect when your time came…

The fair-voiced Muses recognised Hoseok as he left, pretended not to. If he was undercover, he must have a reason, and they wouldn’t out him. They weren’t surprised when he returned as Apollo.

He appeared out of nowhere, the god you planned to slight, so beautiful your eyes almost hurt as when one looks at the sun—radiance shone from his head, his curly hair so bright that a golden crown must camouflage in it under the sunlight, much like Hoseok’s. Guilt stung your heart when his gaze found yours and he smiled warmly.

Apollo then turned his attention to the kneeling youth, who’d begun to sweat. “What do we have here?”

“This boy boasted he was a better musician than you.” The Muses laughed, and you almost did too. It was a ridiculous claim.

“Did he?” Apollo’s good mood seemed untempered. “Well, I’ve no time for a music competition, so shall we just agree you’re in the wrong?”

The youth was quick to nod, yet dared not look away from the ground. “Y-Yes, Phoebus!”

“Do you regret your crime?”

“Awfully, lord, I do!”

“Well, tempted as I may be to make an example of you, today I’m feeling merciful. You’re forgiven.”

There was a pause in which the whole forest fell silent, asking themselves if they’d heard right. A god letting pass an act of hubris was unprecedented. You held the air in your lungs, unsure whether to release it in relief, as this might just mean your venture wasn’t doomed.

“Forgiven?” Even the Muses were dumbfounded.

“It’s not often mortals show remorse, so as long as they do, there’s no need for harsh punishment. Especially if they’re pretty.” Apollo glanced at you, making your lips part, before turning around to face the youth again. “Pour a libation for me and we’ll call it a day, eh?”

Later, long-winged Selene was pulling the moon behind her from the chariot she drove in the sky to bring the night when thanks to Zeus’ sacred laws of hospitality, xenia, an old couple near ARGOS was happy to feed you dinner and provide a bed for you to sleep in—one you’d have to share, which was absolutely fine and not the cause of your arisen nerves.

But once lying on it, the tension in your muscles weakened as you listened to Hoseok play a soothing melody on a lyre he’d found in a chest, and a faint smile settled on your lips.

“This song… I once heard Apollo play it,” you confessed. Given Hoseok was the author of it and had taught it to no one yet, he frowned. He was certain he’d never met you before that day, so how could you have heard him play it?

“When?”

“I was a child. Jungkook and I were playing in the forest outside of Pylos when we heard it. We followed the sound and found Apollo sat against a rock with all sorts of animals surrounding him, listening to him play and hum. It was lovely.”

Even though the gods were known to harshly punish mortals who spied on them, Hoseok smiled too. He played often for the animals, so he didn’t know which specific day you were talking about, but he was glad it served as a happy memory that eased your journey into the embrace of sleep. Although it probably had to do more with your brother.

Hoseok couldn’t blame you, as he also loved his sister deeply, had even slain a divine creature for his mother once. Family was as important to you as it was to him and for that very reason, he realised then that Hermes’ staff was already lost to him. There was nothing else you could afford to care about.

Little did you know, there was nothing else Hoseok chose to care about but you.

Early the next morning, you reached Argos, only that you went around instead of through it.

The great city wasn’t closed, but the old couple had warned you Apollo had stung its citizens with his arrows of pestilence because their queen had neglected him in her devotion, sacrificing to all the gods but him. She should’ve accounted for the detail that while one of his sides was healing and medicine, the other was plague and disease.

Hoseok didn’t regret it. It was her fault her people were suffering. But the grim look on your face when you’d been told… He knew the news had cancelled out the hope born inside you yesterday and that you’d immediately asked yourself that if he’d done that over some sacrifices, what would he do to you for stealing from him?

Midway through the day, while hunting for lunch, he decided to lighten the mood.

“But why not? Most priestesses don’t serve for life!”

A part of you hoped Hoseok was exaggerating his dismay at your refusal to marry not to make you laugh, but so you wouldn’t suspect it was in fact real– No. There was no sense to that thought. Where did it even come from? You were a priestess, he was to be married, and you didn’t know each other.

“My family would have to come up with a dowry and they can’t afford it.”

“I think any is a small price to pay for a man to keep your bed warm.”

Oh… so that was it? He was indignant you wouldn’t know such pleasures? You’d never craved them, honestly, rather thought they were only possible for men. Interesting. But not important right now, as opposed to the rabbit moving about in that bush. Nocking an arrow on your bow, you whispered, “The only man I’d ever care to sleep with anyway is Apollo."

Hoseok felt smug for a second, as he followed your step, then reminded himself this was bad. You were supposed to fall for him, not Apollo. “I’m sure every man back in Pylos prays daily that you quit priesthood.”

A snort betrayed you and the rabbit darted away from the bush, so seizing the chance, you released the arrow and assured lunch. “Thanks Apollo!”

“Don’t mention it–” During the short duration of a missed beat, Hoseok’s heart had forgotten that it was common for mortal archers to thank him, the god of archery, when they hit their targets. Sweet merciful Zeus! Why was he on edge? “Uh… D-Don’t mention his name. We don’t want to summon him, do we?”

Before heading to the lifeless rabbit, you nodded, figuring he was right. “I reckon you can’t wait to meet the girl your brothers want you to marry.”

Hoseok didn’t follow after you, instead watched as you picked up the rabbit and struggled to remove the arrow from its body on your way back to his side. By your tone, he could swear you’d spoken from a place of jealousy, distant as though it may be.

“I find I wouldn’t mind if the trip to Corinth lengthened.”

You looked up once near enough to tell him you would, but the words flew away from your mind the moment your eyes landed on him.

Hoseok was pleased he’d taken this appearance. You were mesmerised, eyes narrowing, likely wondering how you hadn’t noticed until now how attracted you were to him!

Or not. “You’ve a spider crawling up a curl.”

Hoseok was starting to think Hermes and Dionysus were right… The warmth of his divine presence tended to do the job for him, his wit and charm really played a secondary role. Now, he was forced to give up the former, but you, Hoseok feared, were proving to be either immune to the latter or remarkably good at pretending so.

Or maybe it was his fault fully… Just, why the hell did he get so nervous around you?! It was like he couldn't muster a grain of confidence. He’d have to make an effort for the first time not just to flirt, but finish a conversation feeling like he had things under control. That he was in charge.

It wouldn’t help that he wasn’t used to being treated as an equal by a mortal. Much less given commands. ‘Skin the rabbits while I gather some wood’, ‘Burn the fat and bones as a sacrifice to Artemis, will you?’... Even when he’d offered you his share because he, as an immortal, didn’t need food to survive, you’d responded with an assertive ‘Eat’. Not to say he didn’t like it. It was amusing, in a way.

But passing by a small lake fed by a waterfall, Hoseok decided it was his turn.

“Fancy a swim?”

“Sure. And to be fed grapes, while I’m at it,” you chuckled, under the impression Hoseok was joking until you turned around and saw him getting rid of his chiton. Your eyes widened like those of Athena’s owl at the sight of his bare body, looked away only once you’d fought through your shock. “My brother’s life is at stake. If you wish to stay, then this is goodb–”

“Oh, come on, just a quick dive. When was the last time you bathed?”

“Back in Pylos.”

“Thought as much.” You discreetly smelled yourself and at once agreed hygiene shouldn’t be neglected. There was just one thing… and by the way you kept quiet, Hoseok noticed. “What, you’re afraid of water?”

“Not water itself, but drowning.” You played with your fingers, embarrassed to say, “I can’t swim…”

A loud laugh made you snap your head towards its source to see Hoseok approach you naked without any shame. To your own surprise, your feet rooted to the ground instead of stepping back as he promised, “I’ll hold you.”

Never would you have imagined you’d strip naked before a stranger and get in a lake with him, but there was something about him that inspired trust. You knew he wouldn’t take advantage, his gaze keeping away from your private parts proved it so. When the two of you slipped into the water, Hoseok kept a firm grip on your waist, even though you managed to touch the bottom if you stood on your tiptoes. For a second you wished you didn’t, so he could hold you even closer…

“Loosen up, Y/N, you’re as taut as a bowstring,” he said in a low voice, as he was so close he needn’t be loud, and you swallowed hard while nodding.

He next told you to move your limbs about and before you knew it, you were swimming and splashing him and giggling.

The dark began to skew the sky with stars sooner than expected, though, and you blamed the pleasant time spent at the lake for it. You were supposed to sleep in Corinth, where the festival of Aphrodisia was being celebrated, but the city was so far that you were going to miss your ship at dawn!

Luckily, Hoseok had a plan.

While you were picking up some flowers to present to foam-born Aphrodite for lack of a proper offering, he snuck away into the forest, somewhere you wouldn’t hear him summon his kin. A mention of Selene’s name was enough for the goddess to have her white horses land before Hoseok.

Elbow resting on the edge of her chariot and palm holding her jaw, Selene sighed, “I’m busy, Apollo, in case you haven’t noticed. Night doesn’t just come on its own.”

“Speaking of which, I need you to hold back the moon until we get to Corinth, me and–”

“Your priestess, yes.” Selene smirked when Hoseok frowned. “It gets boring up there. One resorts to gazing down, and your lame attempts at seducing this girl provide the funniest distraction.”

“Will you help me, or not?”

Selene laughed, “Gladly.”

And so it was that you reached Corinth before midnight, hair however completely dry as the day had lengthened by many hours. You could piece together no explanation for it, so it had to be what Hoseok mused, that the gods must be making mischief.

Despite the late hour, the streets were crowded with pilgrims who sang hymns to the goddess of love and beauty, and every column of every building was entwined with flowers. The air was also perfumed with the scent of cinnamon but as a priestess, you knew that was to mask the spilled blood of the animals being sacrificed outside the great Temple of Aphrodite, that you entered to leave your modest offering.

Hoseok waited outside, and scoffed when he spotted a familiar face dancing in the crowd, a garland crowning his head. It was the mighty messenger Hermes—or Taehyung, as he liked to address himself when mingling among the mortals in such form.

“Didn’t take you for a faithful follower of Aphrodite’s, little brother,” Hoseok laughed when they stood face to face.

“Well, you know her. She’s likely to welcome me back into her bed if I sing her praises. Literally.” Taehyung looked around to make sure no one was paying attention, made appear his herald’s staff out of thin air. “I hope you haven’t forgotten about our bet? Your priestess will die of old age before you make a move on her.”

“Love isn’t born in a day,” Hoseok retorted in his defence, ignoring Taehyung counting to two with his fingers. “Besides, she’s on a mission of her own, it isn’t currently a prime concern of hers. Be patient, I have no deadline.”

"Even all the time in the world won’t be of help to you, Hoseok.” Taehyung patted his shoulder before joining the dancing crowd again.

Soon, you walked out of the temple and came to a stop in front of Hoseok, too quiet. He frowned.

“What is it?”

You looked everywhere but at him. “She must be waiting for you, the girl you seek to wife.”

Ah, jealous? “I think she’ll be pleased if I keep you company until your ship sets sail tomorrow. Make sure no harm comes to you.”

Since you did want to be with Hoseok for a bit longer, the corners of your mouth quirked into a smile.

The night was spent in a cloud of food, drink, dance, song, and laughter. You loved Jungkook dearly, but it was alleviating to set aside the anxiety suffered for his fate, as well as yours. Wine was good at that, casting away all the bad from one’s mind.

At some point, Hoseok decided it was bedtime. Relying on xenia and the generosity of strangers, he knocked on the first door he saw and a family surely opened it to welcome you in. They showed you to a spare room after some chatting and the second you were alone, you wrapped your arms around Hoseok’s neck and made your lips join.

He was taken aback, but readily licked both your lips before kissing you back ardently, like you were the goddess and he your worshipper. You closed the distance between your bodies to melt into his warm embrace. Hoseok knew you craved him inside, so as a tease, he slipped his tongue in your mouth when you relaxed your jaw and slid it across yours as his cock would. That caused you to moan, and your core pulsate with lust. This might be one of your last nights alive, so why not treat it as such and give in to your desires? To the sweet passion Hoseok stirred inside you?

You would’ve, had he not suddenly pulled back.

Your mouth tried to seek his, even let out a few whines, but he wasn’t having it. Why? Why too did he look like he was suppressing annoyance?

Hoseok did want to savour every sweet bit of you, but what he’d tasted on your tongue was an abundance of Dionysus’ wine. In truth, he only needed take a look at you, so drunk you could barely stand, supporting your weight on him not to stumble. Hoseok sighed.

As a god, he wasn’t subjected to the laws of man. They didn’t apply to him, nor did their morality, so plundering you in that state wasn’t a crime. Mortals were created out of clay to serve the immortals and be playthings to them… and yet Hoseok wanted to earn your love. Not because of the bet, which meant less to him the more time he spent with you, but because he was catching feelings himself.

Besides, none of this was real to begin with. You were just convinced you were going to die, hence why you were doing what you normally wouldn’t.

“Not like this, Y/N.” And carefully, he led you to the bed, where you fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

Your eyes fluttered open when Selene’s sister Eos cast open the gates of dawn.

An ache grounding into your temples, you sat up only to realise the other side of the bed was empty, thanked the gods for it when memories of the previous night resurfaced and embarrassment drowned you. What had you done?

And more urgently, what time was it?

You couldn’t risk missing that ship, so you slapped your own cheek—yes—and pulled yourself together, dismissing every thought that didn’t include Jungkook before joining the family for a quick yet lively breakfast.

The walk to the port was however a quiet one, where neither you or Hoseok seemed to know how to get rid of the awkwardness, and because of that, it was disconcerting when he held your hands once stood by the ship you were to embark, so tenderly like they were injured and he didn’t want to hurt you.

“I want to come with you.”

It took you a second to react. “No. We don’t both need to suffer the wrath of a god.”

“But I won’t let you die.”

You withdrew your hands, smiling wistfully. “My death is not for you to impede.”

Hoseok bit his tongue. “Have faith. We will meet again.”

Sailing away you pondered over how, if you ever did see Hoseok again, it would be as a married man. You’d rather rot in the depths of Hades’ dead kingdom.

For the moment, you prayed Poseidon was in a good mood and his waters remained peaceful as fortunately, your destination was another: the home of the Muses, as the cave in MOUNT PARNASSUS was known to be, and the place where Apollo’s golden bow and arrows were safeguarded when he had no need for them.

Merely crossing the gulf of Corinth would take you a full day, so in the meantime, Hoseok set off to Pylos. He wanted to get to the truth of the matter.

He found your brother guarded only by bronze bars, snuggled up on the cold floor of the palace’s underground cells. Apollo squatted next to him to tuck behind his ear the fluffy dark hair that covered his face, and a whisper of Jungkook’s name was enough to waken him.

Indeed, it was wide awake how he screamed and cowered at the corner of the cell.

“It’s been but four days, the king said I had seven! You can’t execute me yet, whatever the prince says!”

“I’m no executioner, Jungkook. I’m Apollo.”

“The new cook?”

“The Olympian!”

“Oh…” Yes, he should’ve guessed it was absurd for the palace’s new cook to come greet him in his cell. Wait– Did this man say he was Olympian Apollo? Jungkook rubbed the remaining sleep off his eyes and wondered how he could not have recognised those shiny blond curls! “Oh.”

The god barely stifled an eye-roll. “I’m here to hear what happened. Tell me, and know that I’ll see a shadow behind your words if you lie.”

Jungkook gulped. “I was wrongly accused, lord. It is the prince who should be sentenced to death.”

Apollo cocked his head to a side. “The prince?”

“I’m his serving boy. The other day, I overheard him plot against the king with his stepmother. Everybody knows they’re having an affair… Well, everybody but the king, of course. I was going to warn His Grace, but the prince caught me and claimed I was the one behind the plot. The king decided that I’d be executed in four days from now if my older sister Y/N failed to bring him–” Jungkook shut his lips at once.

“My golden arrows.”

Oh, no. He knew of your quest? “Y/N is a priestess of your temple here in Pylos! She’s devoted to you, of all the heavenly gods fears your wrath most!”

“I know.” Apollo stood up and gave him a reassuring smile. “As I know you are telling me the truth.”

At nightfall, you arrived in DELPHI, heart hammering its way through your chest, as on the morrow you’d reach Mount Parnassus and carry through your blasphemous theft.

The nerves were clearly not going to let you sleep, so there was no point in making use of Zeus’ xenia. Instead, you were waiting for the change of guards at the entrance of the great Temple of Apollo—where the high priestess Pythia served as an oracle uttering prophecies under divine possession—so you could sneak in. Once inside, you walked to the end of the naos only to kneel before a tall statue of Apollo that made no justice to his ethereal beauty, and raised your hands into the air with your eyes closed.

“Hear me, child of Leto, he who presides over this temple! If ever I’ve served you in the past, if ever you’ve loved your sister as I love my brother and would do anything for him, grant my prayer and… do take out your vengeance on me. But not tomorrow when I rob you of your arrows, only after I have saved my Jungkook from the sword. Please, heed me!”

“I’ve never known anyone so foolish as to announce to a god her plan to steal from him.”

Your eyes snapped open to see the Pythia lurking in the shadows behind the statue. Shit.

Coming to your feet, you wanted to reach for your quiver and cut her life short before she alerted the guards. You were in a sacred place, but what was one more unforgivable sin?

What stopped you were Apollo’s own lethal weapons, his golden arrows, magically appearing in her hands.

“Phoebus has cursed them. Any who isn’t him and uses them will perish,” the Pythia explained flatly, as if she was hearing his voice in her head and repeating them out loud. “He wants you to give them to your king.”

She handed you the arrows, at which you stared astounded. Apollo knew? Had heard your prayers?

“What of my fate?”

“No harm will come to you by his hand, or any other,” she promised. “You’re under his protection now.”

Tears quickly flooded your eyes and then streamed down your cheeks. Your shaky breath morphed into a laugh and your laugh into a sob, all out of relief. Hoseok randomly crossed your mind, and the next question you didn’t know whether was addressed to the Pythia or yourself. “But why?”

She approached and cupped your cheeks, using her thumbs to wipe your tears gently. Even if you neither knew nor trusted her, you didn’t step back. Her touch was warm, felt strangely familiar…

“Because he’s looked into your heart and seen his light.”

Apollo was done with Hoseok for the moment. Or so he’d thought.

He’d meant to watch you from the clouds save your brother and be done with the ‘tomorrow I may die, so I’ll behave like nothing matters because nothing does’ cast of mind. He wanted to matter to you, to be loved by you.

Alas, his hopes and dreams were crushed.

The fifth day of your quest you spent sailing back to Corinth, but your sixth one, you finished entering Argos. Now, why in Hades would you do that?! Death dwelled in that city, had you forgotten? Or mayhap… you feared not disease, after being told Apollo would protect you.

Alright. He’d make you invulnerable like Achilles, then. No problem. He was about to when he saw two guards suddenly arrest you for no apparent reason in the middle of the street and drag you to the palace. Immediately, Apollo took the appearance of Hoseok and stormed off from Olympus—though really not that bothered in view of the fact that it meant he got to meet you again.

You, however, weren’t sure you were glad to see him. Not there, at least.

“Y/N, what a coincidence!” he joked before the guard manhandling him into the throne room forced him on his knees next to you. “Do you buy your vegetables here too?”

“Who is this?” the queen asked annoyed.

She was standing in front of the two of you, a small crowd of courtiers gathered as an expectant audience that seemed to be about to watch some spectacle. If only you knew what it was about. You’d been shoved there with no explanation, were about to demand one right before Hoseok showed up.

“He says he’s her companion, Your Grace.”

The queen frowned. “But the prophecy spoke of one only…”

Hoseok quelled a frown. Prophecies passed through him, and there was none yet that involved Argos. No, the city was supposed to suffer until he saw fit.

You, on your part, had had enough. Had wasted enough time. “I command you let us go right now! You’ve no reason to detain us!”

The queen scoffed, looking down both at and on you. “You command me, brat? I’d order your death if you weren’t already destined to have your throat slit at the sacrificial altar.”

What? In dismay, you turned to a Hoseok who seemed to not fear the queen of Argos at all, rather looked at her suspiciously.

“Perhaps if you were as kind as to tell us why, Your Grace,” he asked, disdain hidden behind his faked respectful tone. The queen wasn’t blind to it, but let it pass, choosing to just glare at him.

“Over the smallest thing, Apollo has cursed the whole of Argos with a plague. My seer claims the only way to appease his anger is to sacrifice in holy ritual the one person who dares enter the city.”

Hoseok almost laughed. Her seer was a fraud.

“Your Grace!”

Before you could even whip your head around, a guard had snatched the golden arrows from your quiver and walked over to the queen. You tried to stand up to retrieve them, but another guard held you down.

“What have we here?” The queen realised whom the arrows belonged to the second she had a closer look, gasped in shock. “It cannot be! Are these–”

“Mine.”

Everyone, including you, stared at Hoseok in disbelief.

The queen faced him. “So, you’re the thief?” Oh, no, of course! He didn’t know what had happened in Delphi, believed you’d stolen the arrows and would be punished by anyone who found out… Fool. Why would he cover for you? “Well, well. Apollo’s stolen weapons returned and a double human sacrifice… My loyal subjects, tomorrow Argos is saved!”

A loud cheer erupted, one you could still hear from the dark cell you and Hoseok were taken to by guards who then left to celebrate, trusting the bars to do their job.

You joined your palms and forehead with the wall, mumbled, “What use is your protection now that I’m stuck?” Hoseok knew that question was addressed at Apollo. The next one, however, asked as you turned around and walked up to him, was loud and clear and meant for Hoseok. “And what are you doing here? Are you mad?”

He flinched back, confused. Weren’t you happy to see him? “I came for you.”

You wanted to ask ‘What about the plague?’, but what instead came out was, “What about the other girl?”

Other… So you already considered yourself his?

Hoseok gazed into your eyes as he confessed, “My brothers wanted me to meet a girl, and I have.”

Your lips parted slightly. He’d turned down a possible bride in favour of you? He was mad. Mad enough to return whatever feelings you were struggling to suppress. You turned away from him, arms crossed. “A girl who’ll lead you to your death.”

Neither of you was dying tomorrow, Hoseok would sooner kill the whole of Argos than let anyone lay a finger on you.

“A girl who’d love me.”

Frozen in your spot, you daren’t turn around. Love was a strong word, and you’d known this man for just a few days. Eros’ arrow can’t have pierced your skin! Although… you couldn’t deny it must have grazed or scratched it.

“I don’t, I’m a priestess. What happened the other night… was a mistake. I’m sorry, I regret it.”

Since you weren’t looking, Hoseok allowed his lips an ironic smile. He could tell you were lying, trying to convince yourself rather than him. “You can both love Apollo and be in love with me.”

Shocked, you turned around. “Are you asking me to risk my position in order to what, be your lover?”

“It’s the gods who’ve brought us together,” Hoseok explained, walking closer. You held your breath, “who’ve shut the gates of my mind so I can think only of you. I believe the gods wouldn’t put your position in peril.”

And true that was. Priestesses were supposed to be spouses of the deities they served, so once Hoseok revealed his identity, you’d be relieved to learn your vow of chastity hadn’t been broken, as he was the only one it didn’t apply to.

You glanced down at his lips, then shook your head as though resisting a spell. “In my mind, there is only Jungkook.” The cell wasn’t too spacious, but out of stress you still paced around it. “And now we’ll die apart because I trusted a god who may have tricked me.”

Hoseok chuckled in the middle of the deep breath you were taking to calm down.

“You didn’t think I came here without a plan?” He walked over to put his hands on your shoulders and give them a gentle squeeze, putting an end to your pacing. “I’ll do everything in my power to reunite you with your brother. Do you trust me?”

You remembered when he told you to have faith you’d meet again. And you had. Besides, what other choice was there? “I do.”

Hoseok let go of you and went to lie down on the small bed, hands behind his head and eyes closed. “Then we’ll have to wait a couple of hours.”

You stared at him. He really didn’t want to just bed you, was actually looking out for you in a way Apollo was failing to. Or maybe he had sent him… Either way, Hoseok meant not to demand your love but deserve it, making your problems his like you shared a soul and body—and his, you realised then, you no longer wanted to resist.

“A couple of hours?” Hoseok nodded. “Well… it’s cold.”

“It is?”

You sighed, not knowing how to say it. “You once told me any is a small price for a man to keep your bed warm.”

Hoseok opened his eyes before the sentence was over and propped himself up on one elbow. You sat on the edge of the bed, a trembling hand rising that shyly caressed his cheek until he placed his own over it, and pressed a bit harder so you could really feel him, how hot his divine silver blood—known as ichor—was turning. You did, flashes of the night you kissed him making it into your mind. How his lips felt around yours, his tongue inside your mouth, your bodies pushed together…

Both leaned in at the same time, melting in a kiss that led to a night of pleasure dedicated to Aphrodite.

Meanwhile, Dionysus was doing his part.

Having taken the form he liked to call Jimin, he’d pretended to be a cupbearer at the feast the queen of Argos had held to celebrate the end of her punishment. No one noticed he didn’t belong as he poured his special, unmixed wine into the cups of every person in attendance, masking its strong taste with his powers. In a matter of hours, the whole court had lost their senses and passed out where they were, as mortal parties tended to finish in the presence of the god of intoxication.

Satisfied, he skipped his way to the cells, where he found you and Hoseok all cuddled up, skins glowing with the vigour you had loved each other with.

Jimin waved his hand and the cell’s door opened slowly, as though by a draft, but you turned around at once to see no one. “The gods be praised!”

Only seen and heard by a Hoseok who kept gesturing him to leave behind your back, Jimin laughed, “Dionysus, specifically.”

He disappeared then, and you and Hoseok didn’t hesitate to get out of there. What you did hesitate to believe was what your eyes witnessed once, in search of Apollo’s confiscated golden arrows, you entered the banquet hall. A whole court in the arms of Morpheus…

“There they are,” Hoseok whispered not to wake anyone, pointing at the end of the table, where the queen sat and in front of whom the arrows lied.

He walked over to get them, staring at the woman responsible for so much offence. Shielding the action with his body so you wouldn’t see, Hoseok grazed her arm with the tip of one of his sharp arrows, drawing blood. That was enough for her breath to still, her life to end.

You made it safely outside the city, near the house of the elderly couple who’d hosted you days past, even, but at some point you looked up at the moon and halted your rushed pace a tad abruptly, forcing Hoseok to do so as well since you were holding hands.

He frowned. “I don’t think this is the time to sightsee, Y/N.”

“But what’s the point?” you cried. “Pylos is more than two days away. There’s no way we can get there before sunrise.”

Hoseok looked up at the sky behind you, smiled. “Indeed. Though we might get there at the same time.”

You turned around for a peach-coloured sunlight to filter through the clouds and blind you.

Hold on, how could this be? It had been night for only some hours! And yet, before the two of you landed her chariot Selene’s sister, the rosy-fingered Eos. You held Hoseok’s hand tightly. In the presence of a goddess, one could not help but feel tense.

“You, child. Are you Y/N of Pylos?”

“I am, l-lady.”

She smiled kindly. “I’ve been sent to give you a ride, Y/N. I believe your king expects you.”

Relief washing over, you grinned at Hoseok, who caressed the back of your hand with his thumb. “This must be Apollo’s doing!”

“Must be, yes.”

You turned back to Eos and nodded. “Off we go, then, lady.”

In about twenty minutes, people in front of the palace of Pylos were making space for the white horses to land their chariot.

Everyone stared in awe. Doubtless they’d thought you were going to fail, yet here you were escorted by a goddess, with Apollo’s golden arrows in your quiver, and… a foreign man holding your hand?

Once Eos had flown away to drag along the dawn to the West, you discerned on the judgemental faces of the Pylians the conclusions they had jumped to. Conclusions that were correct. You had given your virginity to a stranger, become a whore in the eyes of the world…

Hoseok was the one who let go of the hand he’d been holding ever since you lay together, and you missed his touch right away, like it was the air your lungs needed to breathe. He put some distance between you and with a respectful bow of his head—that was just for show—said, “After you, priestess.”

Eager to hold Jungkook in your arms again, you nodded, then led the way to the throne room.

The second you walked in, all heads turned to the king, who was sat on his throne on the top of some steps, looking at you in the same shocked manner everyone was. Nobody dared say a word. The only sounds in the room were first that of your feet taking you in front of the steps, Hoseok closely behind, and second that of you reaching into your quiver to get hold of the arrows.

The king leaned forward as though spellbound by the beauty of the deadly weapons, without taking his eyes off them ordered a guard, “Bring the boy.”

You turned to smile at Hoseok and he smiled back, but once you’d directed your attention to the door, he continued glaring at the greedy king. He obviously believed luck was on his side, given you’d come back from a suicide mission with a prize for him, but he’d soon learn the gods were not to be fucked with.

“Y/N!” Jungkook exclaimed as the guard dragged him into the throne room. Having eyes only for your brother, you didn’t notice the prince and his stepmother arrived next and took the king’s side while sharing worried looks. Hoseok did, sensed they feared Jungkook would reveal their plot now that he wasn’t going to be executed. You were about to go make sure he was alright, but the king’s voice stopped you.

“Uh-uh. The arrows first.”

Apollo’s curse in mind, you carefully presented them to him. Hoseok watched as he examined them while you ran to embrace Jungkook free of impediment, then passed them on to his son.

Who wasted no time in stabbing his neck with one of them.

Gasps and screams tore the silence apart, echoing as if they came from the stage of a theatre. In fairness, you might as well be in a tragedy play.

Shielding Jungkook with your body out of instinct, you kept still not to draw the gloating prince and his stepmother’s attention, eyes wandering to a Hoseok who otherwise walked over to you without a care for the blood crime just committed. The murder of one’s relatives was against the natural order, punished by the Erinyes themselves. Fortunately for the prince, he wouldn’t be tormented by the goddesses of vengeance, as the curse was already doing its work, causing him to choke in the midst of a speech in which he was declaring himself the new king of Pylos.

To everyone’s confusion but yours, he fell down the steps, lifeless before reaching the floor. His stepmother and lover shrieked, knelt beside him to try to shake him awake, but to no avail. It was then when she found you among the courtiers and through her tears and grief, glared at you.

“What have you done?!” she shouted, Hoseok alone noticed, surreptitiously curling her fingers around the shaft of one of the golden arrows scattered about. “I’ll have your head for this!”

What followed happened so quickly that you had little time to react.

Arrow raised in a fist, the queen lunged herself at you, but Hoseok stopped her right before she reached you by grabbing her wrist, and as she fought to free herself, he received a small cut on the hand. Eyes wide with horror, you gasped.

No.

No, no, no, no…

“Is his blood silver?” Jungkook whispered to himself, and after a second his words transformed from a distant, incoherent echo to a clear question. Upon realising he was right, you frowned.

Hoseok snatched the arrow from the queen and she stumbled backwards, glancing at the guards.

“Come to the aid of your queen, I command you!”

Despite their reluctance, they were going to, but froze when Hoseok nocked the arrow on his bow and this one turned from wooden to gold before their eyes… and not just that.

Something changed about his appearance. Was it the hair? The eyes? You couldn’t tell. It was subtle enough to miss it yet substantial enough to know that your Hoseok was actually a god in disguise.

No other than Apollo, in all his glory!

As you blinked a few times trying to make sense of it, he aimed his arrow at the queen, and playing deaf to her pleas, slew her. Of course, his curse wouldn’t apply to an immortal.

When he turned around, a sea of courtiers fell to their knees, but he cared only about you, standing there in shock. Suddenly taking pity, he didn’t look forward at all to telling you he’d tricked you because of a bet…

A man thankfully rose to his feet and approached him before he had the chance to open his mouth. “Heavenly lord! You’ve blessed Pylos with your presence to free us from a family unworthy of our throne. Tell us, what can we ever do to thank you?”

Hoseok– or Apollo? This was tough, since you could somehow see both at the same time... Well, whoever, replied, “For now, consign the bodies of these three to the UNDERWORLD with all proper rites and burn them.”

Had Hoseok’s voice always been honeyed? His words certainly were... Though looking back, he’d never lied to you, just tip-toed around the truth. Didn’t make you feel any better, but he was a god. What an insignificant mortal felt must be irrelevant to him.

The courtier nodded, followed along with everyone the guards who carried the dead royal family outside of the throne room. Only you and Jungkook remained. And him.

“Leave us, little brother,” you ordered softly.

“But–”

“Listen to your sister. Fear not, I won’t harm her.”

Jungkook trusted that, he just didn’t want to leave your side ever again. However, it became clear to him that defying a god was the stupidest idea when he met his eyes. There was a subtle threat reflected on them.

He didn’t need to be told twice to go then, and the silence he left behind was beyond tense.

You daren’t look at Apollo now that you were alone. The man you’d spoken so casually to, bossed around, shouted at, made love with. But when you did muster some courage, you realised he didn’t seem so different in appearance, it was just that you weren’t blind to his splendour anymore.

He beckoned you to come closer and you obeyed with your face cast down as, would he punish you for doing the king’s bidding and stealing from him, after all? To your relief, he only raised your chin gently to make you look at him, but your eyes instead landed on the small cut on his hand, and without thinking you held it to check whether it was deep, careful not to touch his blood as ichor was deadly to mortals.

“Y-You’re hurt…”

“This little thing?” Apollo smiled at your concern, as it was no more than a scratch. He blew his divine breath on the wound and in seconds, it healed completely. “I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

“You owe me nothing, lord.”

“Hoseok is fine. I rather like the sound of it when you say it.” He sighed when you just nodded. “We didn’t meet by chance, Y/N. Hermes and Dionysus dared me to seduce the first mortal my eyes set upon without revealing my identity.” Oh, so worse than you’d imagined. “It didn’t occur to me that you’d beat me to it.”

Your lips parted in confusion. “To seducing you? But I’ve done nothing but disrespect Apollo– I mean, Hoseok– Uh, you…”

He chuckled, “Believe me, I know. Without meaning to, you’ve bewitched a god well enough to make him overlook hubris. Do you know what that means?”

You shook your head.

“It means I am in love with you, and that I want you to be mine.” You avoided his gaze out of shyness, but he cupped your cheeks and kissed you like he had done back in that cell less than an hour ago, taking your breath away—only this time, you felt the heat of the sun itself on your lips. He pulled back only to whisper against them, “You know I do not lie.”

You did know that. But could you forgive so easily being deceived over a bet? Even the god of whom you were a priestess?

Truth was, it wasn’t just the fear of what then seemed to be a certain death by the hands of Apollo that drew you to his embrace the night before you left Corinth. Neither was it just lust in Argos. He’d earned your love, so much so that you’d agreed to become his lover, were likely going to quit being a priestess at some point to be wed to him. The bet was won long ago, he knew he needn’t claim your maidenhood for it, and yet he’d stuck around.

A different face mattered not.

He loved you, and you loved him.

“I am already yours.”

Hoseok hummed pleased before you kissed him, and you felt his smile grow under your lips. It made you smile too, and the two separated to laugh. Then, he headed to the steps to pick up his golden arrows and put them in his quiver.

“You’re leaving?”

“I must leave for Olympus. I have responsibilities I’ve set aside this past week, but I’ll come back whenever you utter a prayer to me. I promise.”

He saw the disappointment on your face and placed a hand over your belly, making you frown. “Intimacy with the gods always bears fruit. I can already feel twins growing inside you, and I cannot wait to raise them alongside you.”

At the thought of your children playing around the forest the same way you and Jungkook once did—or Apollo and Artemis, at that—you couldn’t help but smile again. Not to mention that you would not only preserve your position as a priestess, but also be revered for giving a god descendants.

Hoseok kissed you one last time, and when you opened your eyes, he was gone, but his warmth remained.

#bts au #btswritingcafe #jung hoseok #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #hoseok imagine #bts #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts hoseok #apollo!hoseok #bangtan imagine #bts greek gods #jung hoseok scenarios #bangtan #bts fanfic #jhope

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majosullivan · 9 months ago

Text

Castle Swimmer Dashboard Simulator 2

🔄 gay-ass-seagrass reblogged sandyshells

🌳 everlastingwhiskers Follow

Threre are ha;ir thi eves haeving sex ;;; in my castsle’swalls sned help

🌳 everlastingwhiskers Follow

There are hair thieves having sex in our walls and now I’m getting fucking HECKLED

🪝 hookedline Follow

This has to be the funniest reason I seen for accusing a post for being fake cause like…it implies that they thought it is simply impossible for anyone here to be the same age or have similar usernames imao

🌳 everlastingwhiskers Follow

I can’t believe that out of all things, I’m being accused of lying about my castle having hair thieves infestation. I don’t think some of you guys understand just how much of a nightmare it is t;o ha e (32$$:?2 s)3$:!/@“/ svehiwsjlajwvdbk

🐚 sandyshells Follow

Op? Op are you good?

🌿 gay-ass-seagrass Follow

The hair thieves fucking got them

62,586 notes

🐬 divingdelphinus Follow

Head of the Guards: Oh hey, you guys are back early-

Guard: God Mouth’s haunted

Head of the Guards: What?

Guard: [grabbing a leister and heading back out the castle] God Mouth’s haunted

82,506 notes

♣️ saltysoul Follow

There are three evil witches from the dark sea traveling through the Purple Peaks? Damn, are they single?

496 notes

🔄 kitti-fishh reblogged

💟 kitti-fishh Follow

As a mer with any basic morals, what mini gods are capable of is terrifying. I have heard so many stories about poor castles being cursed because they defend themselves from an unprovoked attack from a minigod. No creature should have the ability to damn someone or a whole castle to a cruel fate because they defended themselves or an offence out of their control.

However, as a petty bitch-

🫧 bubbly-bubbles Follow

💟 kitti-fishh Follow

You. You Get It

#LISTEN #I’m not SAYING that if I had mini god destructive powers I would use them constantly for petty shit #I am simply putting it out there that the temptation would possibly pass my mind

5,891 notes

🔄 lesbiankelp reblogged

🦪 clamingdown Follow

What if we k-kissed at the bottom of the god mouth 🥺👉👈 and we were both girls 😳

629 notes

🔄 needling-on reblogged

💰 needling-on Follow

A list of things that I have learnt about/was told by the thirteen year old boy that has recently been staying at our castle with his mother (with every single thing being confirmed as being true):

-His mother threatened the leaders from their original castle that she would cut off their HEADS if they ever came near her son again cause they were treat him like shit. It should be mentioned that she said this TO THEIR FACES in front of THE ENTIRE CASTLE

-His first sword fighting pupil is a cursed prince (from what I’ve heard from his mother, his pupil is basically a big brother to him now)

-Also, his first pupil happens to be the beacon’s BOYFRIEND???

-AND HIS PUPIL IS FRIENDS WITH TWO OF OUR RULERS HERE, ONE OF WHICH IS MY OWN QUEEN???

-He could probably beat every guard at my castle in a fight

-He has broken a grown man’s arm so badly it popped in the other direction because he made fun of him and his pupil

-His mother was almost kidnapped by a giant trench monster in the God Mouth

-He stabbed said trench monster in the eye to save his mother

-He has recently fought an evil witch

-Him and his mother have also recently met the beacon

💰 needling-on Follow

Love seeing everyone’s priorities

239,063 notes

🔄 seadaisies reblogged

🌼 seadaisies Follow

okay but can someone tell me what is up with petrified pufferfishes? i swear, every time I plan for a trip, without fail, someone wanting to help me with supplies will give me one of these stupid little guys and just. Refuse to elaborate further

🐡 petrified-pufferfish Follow

You fool. You halfwit. A senseless sentiment from a simple-minded stooge. Your denial of me will bring forth your downfall. Your ignorance will wrap you in the garments of your rising. What will you have when you’re buried in the sand, choking on your own blood and no merciful god to hear your pleads?

🌼 seadaisies Follow

feel like my skeleton is about to jump out of my god damn skin, what the actual FUCK does this mean???

8,475 notes

🔄 give-that-axolotl-a-knife reblogged

🌿 gay-ass-seagrass Follow

The Surface God released me into the wild and now they’re hunting me for sport

24,074 notes

🔄 nauticalnymph reblogged

💠 nauticalnymph Follow

Of course you have an unending sense of dread as you desperately cling to a prophecy that could never be fulfilled. and pronouns

💠 nauticalnymph Follow

Easy site

58,944 notes

🥒 cutecumbers Follow

Oh the things I would give up to live the rest of my life as a little sponge. Bouncing around all day. Not a single thought ever going on behind those eyes. The ideal existence

2,857 notes

🖼️ ocean-landscapes Follow

The Purple Peaks

749 notes

🪨 mossy-rocks Follow

rip to everyone who died while trying to swim to the surface but I’m different

🪨 mossy-rocks Follow

if I wanted to reach the surface, I would simply just swim straight up until I got there

🔘 mossy-rocks-deactivated

you know what i’m gonna start swimming up there right now

84,689 notes

🔄 moonjelly reblogged honeydew-gourami

🎗️honeydew-gourami Follow

Do we still talk about that giant mini god crab that was destroying the Purple Peaks and making it basically impossible for castles to live peacefully there? Like whatever happened with that?

🌀 moonjelly Follow

The beacon completed the crab’s prophecy and turned him back to normal so things are chill now

🎗️ honeydew-gourami Follow

🌀 moonjelly Follow

What’s not clicking?

#you know who does click though? #the crabs #bunch of funky little guys

47,524 notes

#castle swimmer #webtoon #dashboard simulator #fake tumblr dash #fake tumblr post #castle swimmer kappa #kappa #castle swimmer siren #siren

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loganlermanstanaccount · 2 years ago

Text

Just to kiss me (Part 2)

pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

(AO3 mirror)

Part One, Part Three, My Hunger Games Masterlist

summary: You try to move on. This proves harder than expected.

warnings: none for this chapter. Small mention of blood.

required reading: The song "We'll never have sex" by Leith Ross <3

a/n: I take a lot of creative liberties because I do not know what the capitol or its government fucking look like! I haven't read the books in a while, and I try to build on the wiki and the movies, so sorry in advance.

wc: 4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, dilute me, gentle angel

Water down what I call being grateful ,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't even tell him your name.

That's the thought you sit with for the next few days, then weeks. You try your hardest to leave it at that; a simple conversation between strangers, an interaction to twist the lock on and take to your grave. A secret thing, a moment, just for you.

The truth is, you're distracted. You've spent a defiant few years trying not to be swept up by the buzz around Finnick Odair, and in these couple of weeks you find yourself watching old interviews and articles about him. A lot of them, at first, but none of the portrayals match the man you met on the balcony. Too sanitised, too clean. Who was Finnick? Under the makeup, the lifestyle, the glamour; who was he really?

Vonnie called you, the morning after, raving about how she had actually met Finnick Odair.

"And God, I think he's even prettier up close! He was so funny, and he said he loved my dress… wait. Shit. D'you think he was flirting with me? We're about the same age, and we'd make such a power couple! The way he looked at me, you'd think-"

You loved Vonnie, you really did. And you were happy for her. But the way she talks about him makes your stomach churn for some reason. You cut her off gently, with promises to continue later in the day.

On the 4th week, you think you have snapped out of your month long haze; made peace with the facts of the matter. He didn't ask for your name. He doesn't remember you. He didn't look back. It was stupid, really, to expect anything else. You're at a fitting with your mother when you decide you're well and truly over it. Cinna tightens the corset of a gown, before peering over your shoulder to look at you in the mirror. You both tilt your heads; as if you would transform at a mere 45 degrees.

"Sleeves or no sleeves?" he asks.

"Sleeves." you say.

"No sleeves." your mother says at the exact same time. "Honestly, Cinna can we make it a little more…. more? It doesn't exactly say 'Councillor's daughter' "

You dare to roll your eyes at her dramatics. "And what does it say, currently?"

"It says 'District 4 tribute tour', my love. Too many nets for your own good. No offence."

You bristle, knowing Cinna made the dress to her exact requirements.

"That's vile, mother. The dress is beautiful, as usual, Cinna."

His smile is well practised. He knows you mean it. "No sleeves it is, then."

'Masquerade' was the theme. A grand affair in the run up to the 72nd Games; everybody who's anybody would be there. Admittedly, this was last minute; with only your mother's money and status affording you these appointments. But the dress Cinna had managed to make was truly beautiful; draped silver netting with crystal beading, dripping down the dress like the froth of a waterfall. The mask was a similar affair; crystal droplets cascading down its side.

There’s the tell-tale chime of Caesar's show on the antenna; and you hear him announce the mentors for the next games. All past victors; of which Finnick's name is not mentioned.

~~~

Without the sleeves, you’re cold and bare. Even the spotlights of the hall do nothing for warmth, so you are forced away from the draughty sides of the room, near the windows. Avoiding all events, for your own peace of mind, was rearing its ugly head. Never a conversationalist; you were even more out of practice and out of your depth. God, you didn't have the energy for this. Living in the capitol for a lifetime had desensitised you to the excess of your surroundings. Gaudy dresses, tawdry suits, body mods every which way; all to fit the theme of unmasking - lest they were named and shamed for a fashion faux pas in the papers.

You had separated from your mother a while ago, not bearing to be picked apart for the whole night. So you floated, a half empty champagne flute in hand, desperately trying to blend in with the crowd. The masks helped, you suppose; you had never been good at remembering faces, so you compartmentalised and talked to 'the fox' or 'the doll' as opposed to the editor of Panem weekly, or the new candidate for the council.

The lively uptick of music signals the ballroom is open. For a while, you are entranced by the dancing, the sway of bodies and ball gowns in time to the music. A sea of people in the flashing lights. And when that wave breaks, at its crest, is Finnick.

You know it's him, despite the mask. You can feel it; as you watch him laugh something inaudible at his dance partner. She's beautiful, her suit in a complementary shade of blue to his signature gold. There's a shiver down your spine when you watch him lean close to her ear, and whisper something that has her holding back laughter.

You have no right, you know. It tastes bitter to know you've joined the swathes of onlookers; analysing every move. Frustrated, you down your drink and shake it out of your system. You don't know him. Like everyone else, you don't know him.

You make for the door and are swept up by the tide of people. Someone grabs you by the waist and spins you into the arms of another; waltzing with the current. A crescendo, and you've swapped partners, stumbling almost head first into another.

The fabric you clutch at is taut, expensive brocade. Gilded and… golden. You look up. Fuck. Vonnie was right: he is prettier up close.

In your stupor, you hear a snort. He's laughing. You're frozen and he's laughing, the little shit.

"It is customary for one to dance at these things, you know." He looks at you, dead on, and you wait for the flash of recognition. It doesn't come, and you don't know whether to cry with relief or sadness.

"I'm c-concentrating," You almost glare at him. Forward, right. Backwards, left. Rinse, repeat. You need something else to think about. You catch his foot with your shoe and he winces slightly.

"And how's that working for you?" The rest of the sentence was silent. It's not. You splutter with shock at his bluntness, and ignore him. Forward, right. Backwards -

"I know you." It's soft, under his breath. "From the balcony…. I-I remember you."

That's when you look at him, deep green eyes pulling you in despite the mask. There's a smile threatening to break the surface of his face; hands on your waist like you were going to disintegrate. There's the crescendo of music again, and you're whisked away.

"Meet….meet me by the south stairwell!" He shouts after you, before being swallowed up by the crowd.

~~~

The "south stairwell" was deceptively specific, you realise too late. You're wandering the adjourning hallways after slipping out, more than a little lost. Every room looks the same; empty marble flooring and ornate crown carving. It's pristine, a little too evenly aged - a scene of birds and willows in the moulded furrows with a chip here and there. You'd heard once that Councillor Hadrian had ordered for the pieces made in District 2 to be specially aged - people working for months with chisels and hammers to imitate something ancient. A bygone era inside this hulking pile of glass and metal. Hollow. An old wives’ tale, perhaps.

You click-click down the halls in search of a stairwell, let alone one in the south wing. Thankfully, it gives you time to think. You're excited, even though you'd rather perish than admit it. A feeling bubbling up in your gut, ever since you spotted him in the crowd. Now, it threatens to boil over because you've been vindicated. Desperately, you're trying not to overthink; to be a normal fucking human being about this, for once. It doesn't mean the same thing to him, you're sure of it, but it feels nice to pretend.

After a maze of corridors that all look the same, you spot him. In the warm lights you can see him better: dressed in a brocade suit, and underneath, corseted at the waist of a flowing silk shirt. Even the mask suits him, a triple faced affair; deconstructed so his jaw and cheekbones are visible. He's leaning on the bannister, and as you round the corner, you spot someone else with him. She's got her mask atop her striking ginger hair, and tucked her hands into the pockets of a tailored jumpsuit; a complementary blue and silver to Finnick's gold and cream. Guarded when she spots you, Finnick speaks first.

"Hi." He takes off his mask, as if he's seeing you for the first time. There's warmth in his eyes and that smile again.

"Hi." You smile back.

"This is-" He turns to the woman next to you. She can't be much older than you, maybe even your age. Despite her blank stare, she seems somewhat familiar, like you've seen her somewhere before. "This is Annie."

Rather curtly, she nods.

"And Annie… this is who I talked about, before. This is.." you fill in the gap with your name. As if to test how it feels on his tongue, he repeats it after you. He turns back to Annie, a glint in his eye. "She's real, and I'm not crazy, she's-"

"She's real." Annie looks at you once over, visibly unimpressed.

"I didn't think this was your thing, to be honest." He says as he takes a seat on the steps next to you.

"Stay home? And miss out on the vultures? You don't know me well enough, clearly." You stretch out, a little stiff in the dress.

"You weren't at the banquet, or the Staffy twins' party, or Caesar's press junket… I was starting to think I'd never see you again."

You think that means he looked for you; and your heart goes pitter-patter at the implication.

Annie clears her throat. She stands, and when Finnick rushes upwards she sighs." I'm going back in. You can… stay here for a bit. If you need."

When she pads down the corridor, out of sight, Finnick's scratching his head. "She's nice. I promise."

You hum. "I don't blame her. I fucking hate these things." He doesn't look at you.

"You never get tired of it? The peacocking, the preening, the pleases and pardon-mes. I've been to two, I think. And I feel like my eyes are gonna roll back into my head. Permanently." You say that last bit a little dramatically, looking for a laugh.

It doesn't come. "You play the game." Diplomarically, he shrugs. And too quickly, he turns to you. "You want to do something? Something a little stupid?"

"Depends how stupid, s'pose…" There's a hand, rough palms upwards, stretching towards you. You take it and Finnick smiles.

~~~

You're outside Councilor Hadrian's soiree, at the juncture between glassy buildings and the adjourning streets. It's tucked away from the Capitol’s centre, hidden behind manicured hedges and stony pavement. Finnick strays a little further out, furtive as he watches for anyone walking past. At this time of night, however, it is unlikely to meet a soul this far from the entertainment district. Only when you find the streets eerily quiet do you realise how stupid this really is: a midnight walk with a man you don't know, taking you to an unknown place, without anyone aware of your whereabouts. Currently, your only comfort was that this risk taking might send your mother to an early grave.

In the hum of streetlights, you realise just how tall Finnick is. Broad shoulders, corded forearms exposed at his rolled up sleeves. His mask is long gone, discarded on some side table back at the party. You give yourself the time to appreciate the cut of his cheekbones and dimples threatening to expose themselves as he chews on the inside of his cheek. Despite himself, he seems on edge. Nervous.

You haven't been walking long when he stops. A spot secluded by trees. He brings out something jangly in his pockets and points at the half-dark. That's when you see it. A car.

An honest-to-god, 4-wheeled, shiny chassis, little blue car. You gasp. You haven't seen anything with wheels since you were a kid - so a car in this condition was a sight to behold.

"This is- she's gorgeous…! I can't imagine where you got this from-" He can hear you beam as you circle the thing, pawing at its glossy frame.

"His name is Lucas, and he was a gift." He says with a small smile. "Fixed him up myself, and he runs pretty smoothly-"

"You can drive it? Does that mean…are we going to….?" He brings a hand up to pause you. With a little flair, he gently nudges you aside to open the door to the passenger's seat.

~~~

You're having a little too much fun. You must look mad the way you squeal at every bump in the road that makes the car rock; or the way the lights dance in the side mirrors. The streets weren't made for wheels but you enjoyed it nevertheless. You'd been in pods, ships, the occasional hover bike; but none could compare to the feeling of riding down the streets of the Capitol with Finnick in tow.

He took the sideroads; a route you didn't recognise but one he was clearly well versed with.

"Where are we going?“

“A surprise."

He keeps driving, his eyes flitting to look at you in the passenger's seat. You stray further from the Capitol; bleeding into its borders, where concrete gives way to grass and streetlights are swallowed by moonlight. He can't help but to get drunk on small glances of you. Your lazy chatter dies down as he pulls up to a clearing of trees offroad.

He steps out to open your door. You grab his hand and your heels sink a little in the mud. The walk isn't far, and barely a few hundred metres from where he's parked. In the brush, you see the gentle shine of… water.

A lake, crystalline in the low light. Willows sweeping its edge, and the gentle chirrup of cicadas in the rushes. A wooden jetty; solid but mossy with age. Frankly, you've never seen such untouched beauty this close to the Capitol. There's something in the air; crisp and clean, free from blood.

You herd Finnick towards its banks, taking a seat, and he plants himself next to you; open-toed heels barely touching the water. You shiver. Always a gentleman, he gives you the suit jacket off his back.

"I've never seen anything like this…" You look around in awe. "Never… not this close to the capitol. Untouched."

"Bureaucracy, I think. Saved it from a tomb of glass and limestone." He explains. "Once constructruction started, they realised it ran into an underground reservoir. So they abandoned it."

"They?"

"A nebulous, overarching, always-watching they. You know how it goes."

"S'pose I do." You gesture towards your dress. "That's why I'm dressed like this. Is that why you look like you sneezed into a vat of glitter?"

He rolls his eyes. "Very funny. This is my signature look, apparently. I have a brand to maintain."

"A brand…? That's…. unsettling."

"What is?"

You distract yourself by fiddling with the beads on the skirt of your dress.

"I see you on the network. In interviews, on the radio; your face is plastered on half a dozen billboards in the capitol. I go past one on the way to work. The one where you-" You turn, curling your face into a smile, and attempt to wink. "-smiling, like this, I think. Half the nation thinks they know you. And you're good at it."

He doesn't look away.

"Being a brand, I mean. You're good at it."

A pause. The wind causes the grass and willows to chatter in the silence. Fuck.

"You have a job?"

"...could you at least pretend to be surprised?"

"No- it's just, I thought you stop existing when I'm not here." He deadpans, and you laugh at his half-sincerity.

"Like I'm a figment of your imagination? Because you're wracked with the guilt of all the rich fucks in the capitol you've pretended to like…"

"...something like that." He huffs, a little cryptic, but you continue.

"Well, I'm real. And I have a job. A secretary. Data entry, organising meetings, taking minutes, all for Councillor Hadrian. That's how I got into the party." A small lie you barely notice, rolling off your tongue. You don't want him to know about your mother, not yet.

"For Hadrian? You must see a lot, then. Tell me something I don't know."

You could tell him about the secret meetings with his "friends" at the boardwalk - the ones his wife doesn't know about. Or the tin of powder by his desk he scrapes into lines and snorts unceremoniously on stressful days. But Finnick runs in those circles, and was no doubt familiar with Hadrian and his vices.

So you lean in, edging closer towards the man with a hand on his shoulder.

"He's got an inclination for the mutts they use in the games…"

Finnick looks at you bewildered, at first, but catches the glint in your eye. Then, he laughs, a chuckle that turns into a roar until there are tears in his eyes. You laugh with him, glad to see him smile.

"God- I almost believed you…!"

It's your turn to snort, loud in the billowy outdoors. "He's got blood on his hands, same as everyone else." He hums noncommittally. "But Hadrian's a greedy idiot - doesn't look at the bigger picture. It's worse when they're smart. Like….like Councillor Arachne-"

"-the closest thing to Snow's opposition?"

You wave him off. "Opposition is a strong word. All of her positions are inflammatory at best," Nothing too strong, or radical. The shiny veil of choice; two paths leading to the same cavernous pit. You explain:

"She's visible; appeals to both sides without alienating either. The one good thing she did; suspending the 57th games; was reversed, almost immediately. And the fact Snow hasn't offed her yet makes him look….” You search for the right word. ”...benevolent. But the moment she pivots to something that matters - and I mean something other than wine shortages and stretching curfews-"

" -she dies. A tragic accident. A deeply troubled woman pushed to her brink. She dies."

"Wouldn't be the first time." The air is heavy with what's left between the lines. Nothing changes. Not really.

"She's the favourite for overseer in District 4, isn't she?"

"Something like that. She's got her fingers in a lot of pies." Of course, you’d know. Half of the Capitol’s inner circle in and out of your home in an attempt to expand her connections. Hastily, you add, "I guess they all do."

"Is that what you want to do, then? Go into politics?"

"Oh, no. I want people to actually like me." And under your breath, you say. "I don't even care if it's fake. I just want them to like me."

"It's simple things, really." Your head almost snaps towards him. He stretches, and stands up; to lead you towards the pier. You watch as he takes centre stage on the wooden planks and you sit on the grass besides it.

"You make them read between the lines. For example," His gestures are exaggerated, and he echoes across the lake. As a backdrop it's breathtaking, Finnick in gold against the silver gloom of mist and lapping water. "Mirror their body language. Laugh at their stupid jokes. You're personable and good-natured and approachable - you're the first person you need to convince. People already like you. Believe it."

Finnick helps you up onto his stage, and taps the small of your back.

"Posture. Stand up straight. Ask about the little things. Remember the details." Words he recites like a checklist. He's closer now: manic, possessed.

"When Caesar asks if you caught the show the other day, you say you had a late night. That means nightmares, again, but everyone else thinks it means someone seduced, not waking up in your own bed. You don't correct them. Instead, you turn to the camera - the one on your left, your good side - and you wink. Always the golden boy, but not too golden."

There's something there as he talks. Like the night on the balcony, something trying to break free. In a moment, it's gone, whatever you're searching for.

"Eye contact, it's important," He's soft, lifting your jaw up so you're at eye level. Gently, he rests his hands on your waist like they were made for its slope. "And smiling, with your eyes, not your teeth. A little flirty; like you know something they don't…" For a flash second, he looks at your lips. "Little glances, barely noticeable. Make 'em go crazy. Get a little closer than you should."

You're holding your breath. Chest thudding in your dress, he's close, the tip of his nose barely brushing yours, Unwavering, pupils blown; the hot gaze of his sea green eyes burning your skin.

Your mouth moves before you can think. "But it's not… real."

Knee deep in his own performance, the glass shatters. He scrunches his mouth, a flash of dimple, and moves back.

"No. It's not."

Silence, for a bit. You've gotten too comfortable, you think, said something you shouldn't have. He gives you a weak grin.

"Thank you." He says warmly. You're confused.

"For what?"

He shrugs. "For staying, I guess. For listening."

You nod slightly, still clutching at his silky sleeve. A groan comes from your stomach and you realise you've been out for a couple of hours, at least. You separate, gently, embarrassed.

Finnick practically coos. "I've got some food and a blanket in my car. We'll eat, and then I'll take you home, if you want." He hands you the keys, and you pad off towards the car, grateful for the time to clear your head.

Your back hurts from sitting on the ground, and you're cold even in Finnick's jacket - but your face aches from smiling so much. You ruined the moment, you know, but it was unlike anything you've ever felt before. He's disarming; able to get you to cut and spill your insides out onto the wooden planks, with only a smile and a touch of your shoulder. Dangerous.

There's a blanket and water in the boot of the car, the fabric decorated with a pattern you haven't seen before. It's big, handmade probably, and loosely woven; reminiscent of a thick net. You sling it over your shoulder, and grab the water, looking for food. After rummaging around the car's front, you happen across the glovebox. Inside, packaged saltines; that look like the food packs peacekeepers carry; and a little box rattling around its bottom. Curious, you pop it open. Empty, save for a single pill. Many things could be said about you; but you weren’t stupid. You put the box back in its place.

With a click, you lock the car and begin the short walk back to the lake. A rough beaten path you trudge along, your heels long gone. You're not too far, when you hear something. A dull thud. And then, there's a crash, like a boulder thrown into the water. The weeping leaves of the trees block your view, so you hurry towards the noise.

You round the corner. Something's wrong.

"....Finnick?" You can't see him. Calling his name as you drop your things, you clamber onto the jetty. "F-Finnick?"

You're shouting now, nearing the end of the wooden slats. Below you, even in the low light, the water churns. Your voice goes hoarse screaming his name, as you kneel down to get a better look. The planks are wet, warm; but not with water. Blood. You look down. A glinting mass pooling below the surface.

There's a person in the water. Unmoving. Bloody. Golden.

#finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x capitol!reader #finnick x y/n #the hunger games #the hunger games fic #angst #slow burn #Spotify #thg #thg x reader #kat_writes😼

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